Author's Note: This took longer than I thought. I mean I was kinda busy though. Writing this chapter made me so aware of how many commas I use and my preferred sentence structure. Now I feel self-conscious, haha.
It's about 9 pm when he calls. Rolling up into a sitting position, Iris answers in record time.
"Ingo!"
She hopes that Drayden and Caitlin weren't too harsh with him. He sits on his bed, head cradled in one hand. Judging by the the slouch in his posture and his slightly tousled hair, it had been a long day. Her hope falters a bit.
"Did it go okay?" Iris almost cringes at how meek her voice is, but she can't help but feel a little guilty. Considering that the two must have come in the middle of his work day, Ingo probably had to stay at the Gear Station later than usual to make up for it. Apologies are at the tip of her tongue.
Noting the distress on her face, Ingo quickly puts on a reassuring smile. "I'll admit I am quite drained from the conversation, but it ended amicably. That sort of conversation had to happen sooner or later."
Iris sighs. "Yeah. I just didn't expect it to happen all in one day. Um…" Fingers run through her hair, tugging and twisting. "I was going to save this for later, for the date actually, but maybe now would be a good time. Are you up for another talk?"
"Well…" Ingo hesitates, torn between the sweet allure of sleep and his curiosity. "I suppose so. It seems important."
Laughing nervously, traces of heat bloom on her cheeks. "Since I'll be at your house for our date, I was wondering if I could 'stay the night'? I know this is kind of sudden, but lately I've been wanting to be more...physically intimate. B-but only if it's okay with you."
Ingo freezes, processing the request. With a start, he quickly covers his lap with a pillow.
"A-a-ah, um. As long as you're certain about it. Another thing to prepare, I guess. It sort of fits with the pillow gift, right?" Once again, he means to reassure her, but it simply comes out as awkward. Aaaand now they're both blushing.
Suddenly Ingo's eyes widen. "Oh! I almost forgot. I wanted to go over the date plans with you. I wanted to change things a little. As you've probably guessed the day will be Sunday, but rather than just a romantic dinner, I was thinking that we could meet up in the afternoon. Anville Town hosts an extensive market on the weekends, so I thought we could shop for ingredients and check out the other wares together."
"I should have figured that you lived in Anville Town," Iris giggles. Having to deal with a busy populace all the time, she could see why Ingo would choose to live in such a peaceful place. Also, the presence of trains made for an obvious connection. "Yeah, let's do it. A full-course date!"
"Wonderf—" Ingo's positive response warbles as a yawn ripples through, and he's just left looking sheepish. Thankfully, he's not the only one.
"Ah. Sorry! I should just let you sleep, huh?"
"Well, if you don't mind~" Even when he is tired he still has the mind to try and keep the mood light.
"You're too considerate. Now go to sleep." Seemingly blunt, she says it with the same amount of seriousness as his response. He isn't the only one who can joke.
"Will do." Ingo lets out one last yawn. "Goodnight, Iris. I love you."
Smiling back gently, Iris reciprocates. "Goodnight. I love you too."
Finishing the call on her end, she lets herself back onto the bed. Her expression flickers, and heat rushes to her face. Yes, she had seriously admitted it. Those indecent, lustful thoughts. How utterly embarrassing! At least it had gone smoother than expected. Iris thought that he would object, considering how Ingo preferred to be a gentleman.
Not that it was a bad thing. Today, they had both declared the strength of their love. Perhaps his response was proof of that. She lets herself drift off. Just a few more days...
/
So this was the place. Produce, jewelry, clothes, confections, crafts, beverages. Every sweep revealed another type of stall. What amazed her the most was how open it was. Each stall had plenty of space around it, and unlike Opelucid or Nimbasa, there were no towering buildings limiting pathways and blocking the sky. Sunlight shines on the stalls, creating a welcoming glow.
Her eyes are drawn to a bench near the edge of the rail yard. Seeing the person sitting there, she smiles. Iris smooths out her sundress and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The pillow is safe in her tote bag, wrapped in plastic for extra protection. Giving herself one last look over, she makes her way towards him.
Waiting on the bench with a brown canvas rucksack slung over his shoulder is Ingo. Even his casual clothes are a bit classy, a lavender dress shirt and black slacks.
"Lavender, huh?"
"It's an elegant color. Pairs well with my favorite." He stands up with a slight flourish as if she hasn't already seen his attire.
"I'm pretty sure most colors pair well with black," Iris giggles.
"And so you've discovered the secret behind my fashion sense and decorative choices. What do you think?"
She decides to tease him a little. "Well considering how hard you work, I guess you have to cut corners somewhere."
An eyebrow arches. "Oh? Are you accusing me of laziness?" Ingo leans in close, and Iris can feel his breath tickle her ear. "I'll admit it, though I am partial to the color." Pulling away, he gives a small smile and holds a finger up to his lips. "Please keep it a secret. It's always entertaining to read the public's theories on why Emmet and I favor the colors we do."
"So you're telling me you two aren't the human reincarnations of Reshiram and Zekrom? Say it isn't so!" She punctuates the words with an overdramatic gasp. Ingo lets out a puff of laughter before composing himself. Pausing for a moment, Iris tilts her head to the side. "Hmm...So does Emmet wear white for that reason too?"
"Ah. I believe that's part of it. He mainly does it to differentiate himself from me. It's bothersome, constantly being mistaken for your twin." He sighs, obviously remembering such instances of his own. "Emmet doesn't seem to mind being saddled to such a high-maintenance color, for whatever reason. He honestly could have chosen a different one."
"Does that mean you started your color scheme first? What brought that on?"
"We shared clothes because it was cheaper for our parents. There wasn't enough to divide into 'his' and 'mine', not that we had much in the way of distinct choices anyway. I got tired of it, saved some money, and bought my own clothes. Black was cheap, abundant, and it doesn't stain as easily as lighter colors."
Iris nods. "That makes sense. I find it wonder though..." She twirls around in place, letting the edges of her sundress fan out, similar to the flowers that make up part of its fabric. "Should I regret my color choice today? I'm getting the vibe that you're not into white." The sundress is cotton white with pink hydrangeas decorating the bottom-left, individual flowers and petals artfully scattered throughout the rest of the dress.
Eyes widening in alarm, he quickly stumbles out an explanation. "It's not that I dislike the color! I simply don't have any luck with it." She gives him an odd look, spurring him to continue. Ingo turns his head away slightly. The color red dusts his cheeks. "Every time I've attempted to wear something white, it ends up noticeably dirty by the end of the day. Coffee spills, ink smudges, motor oil, and such. It makes me look slovenly, which is not an image I prefer to project."
Her face lights up. "So that's why your station locker is full of extra work shirts and gloves. I just thought that you were being meticulous as usual."
"I also keep spares in my coat's inner pockets. If I'm lucky I only have to use one per day," he admits in defeat. He can't help but slump his shoulders, embarrassed.
"Hey, don't feel bad." Closing the small distance between them, Iris links her free arm with his. "Now I get to imagine you shirtless whenever you're at work."
The red has reached tomato-type levels. "I-I'm glad that you have such confidence in my physique." Letting the heat steam off his face, Ingo redirects the conversation. "Why don't we get started on our shopping. I think you'll be pleased to know that the menu for tonight is a wild mushroom risotto with some mango-strawberry sorbet for dessert."
"Sounds deliciously fancy. What do we need?"
"Wild mushrooms, leeks, parmesan cheese, white wine, mangoes and strawberries. I have the rest of the ingredients at home." As he says this, he takes out a list from his pocket just to be sure. "What would you like to choose first?"
Iris looks up at him confidently. "If it's alright with you, how about we hit up the produce stalls? I want to impress you with my fruit and vegetable selecting skills."
"Very well. I hope I can do the same with the wine and cheese."
/
Laying out all the items from the rucksack and onto the counter, the pair smile proudly. Iris had been careful to use the free sampling to pick out the most juicy and flavorful strawberries of the lot. The mangoes were picked to compliment that, just barely ripe, as to not overwhelm the dessert with fruity sweetness. The leeks and mushrooms were of a similar caliber. Ingo made sure that the parmesan they were buying was aged properly in order to procure the right flavor and chose a dry white wine.
After separating the items into piles for their respective recipes, Iris takes the sweet and Ingo takes the savory.
Iris finishes first, placing the sorbet into the freezer for later. Satisfied, she turns toward the stove to see the progress of the risotto. It's nice seeing him like this. Relaxed, yet focused. The way he casually ladles broth onto the rice without spilling a single drop. How his eyes lighten and how the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a triumphant grin as he achieves the perfect consistency.
"Looks like we're all set." With the vibrancy that comes from a successful recipe, Ingo portions the risotto onto the plates they had set on the table. She takes her seat.
"You know, I've never had risotto before. I was tempted to make it myself, but it always seemed like such a difficult dish. The only time I've ever seen anyone make it was on TV, and those were professional chefs. I just assumed it was out of my league." There it hits her, stopping her spoon about a centimeter from the plate.
Assumptions.
The rest of what she was going to say dies on her tongue, as if she's been paused. It's stuck in her head and all she can do is mull it over.
"Iris, is everything okay?" Snapping back to the present, she takes in his worried expression. She should explain before she completely kills the mood.
"Sorry. I was just thinking...assumptions. If I hadn't met you and continued my silly rage-filled path for validation, I'd probably be known as the most bitter Champion of Unova by now." Ingo looks rightfully puzzled, unable to connect the two statements.
"Like, I just assumed that nobody understood the pressure I was under." She thinks of her colleagues and how they reached out to her. "I let it warp the words and good intentions of the support I did have into a chain. Part of me blamed them for ever encouraging me to be Champion in the first place." She thinks of Drayden with his patience and unconditional love.
"And here I am now, realizing I never tried to make risotto just because I assumed it was too high-level for a cooking novice like me to make. It just seems so ridiculous."
He nods sympathetically. "It does seem that way looking at it retroactively, doesn't it? I wouldn't be too harsh on yourself. When you're in the center of a situation, seeing that outside sort of perspective can be difficult."
"Yeah. It does make me thankful though. For this. For us." Looking down at her spoon, which had she must have jabbed into the risotto when she was talking (she doesn't know when though), Iris finally guides it to her mouth. The flavor warms her, deep and rich. Her muscles relax. A sound of contentment slips past her lips. Before she knows it, she's eating spoonful after spoonful.
"That's quite the compliment. I hope to repay it when I taste the sorbet." Ingo rests his head on intertwined fingers, watching her. He's thankful for her too. Sincerity. Honesty. It can be surprisingly hard to embrace them. With them you can be vulnerable leading to intimacy, but there's always the risk of pain and rejection. That's why people have multiple faces, a way to keep a safe distance. He's worked so hard, been so particular about his public persona that on some days he can't tell whether he is Ingo or Subway Boss Ingo.
But bit by bit, when he's with her he can feel it. Saying words because he wants to say them, rather than just saying what he thinks others want to hear or what would save face. Being able to even reveal his more embarrassing aspects. She had been the first to do it, that day on the Battle Subway. Completely, utterly, shamelessly honest.
It's refreshing, inspiring, and he hopes it will continue.