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Xander had come to a conclusion. It had taken three weeks. Three weeks of Inigo coming in, tentatively flirting, only to get flustered when Xander reciprocated. The conclusion was this: neither one of them knew where to go from here.
Well, Xander did know , technically. He just didn’t seem to have it in him to say it out loud.
Maybe it would’ve stayed like that. Maybe they would’ve kept orbiting each other, shyly flirting, until someone with more gall came between the pair of them. Maybe nothing would have ever happened. But then, due to a chance encounter with a particularly irritating vigilante, everything changed.
Xander had been taking the trash out to the dumpster behind the cafe when a familiar voice interrupted him. “Ah, excuse me, sir, you wouldn’t have happened to see a man called Odi- Oh! Hello!” Laslow’s voice brightened when he saw who he was addressing, which just made Xander more suspicious. “Do you remember me? I’m Laslow, the Da-”
“Dancing Duelist, yes, yes,” Xander cut him off, pursing his lips. In the weeks since meeting Inigo, he’d come to the conclusion that, perhaps, his siblings were right about one thing; he had been lonely, in a sense, and so of course when the vigilante had come swooping in to save him, he’d been taken in by it. But now that he knew Inigo, even if their interactions weren’t much, he didn’t have that chink in his armor that Laslow could try to exploit. “I remember. I don’t have time for your nonsense. Please leave.”
“So the beautiful flower has thorns!” Laslow exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock indignation. A grin was forming on his face, and that, on top of the unwanted comment, made Xander’s jaw tense up. “Are you a rose, by chance? You’re certainly lovely enough,” he added, taking a step closer.
Xander shot him a fierce glare, and that got the man to stop, smile flickering, albeit only momentarily. “I asked you to leave,” he said, trying to put every last drop of contempt in his voice as possible, the way Leo was so good at.
“Not a fan of flirting?” Laslow asked. His stance was casual, but there was a confusion tinging his voice that was all too clear, like he didn’t think that made any sense.
“Not a fan of vigilantes,” Xander corrected, voice cold.
Laslow tilted his head to the side slightly, thinking on that. “Didn’t you say, the last time we met, that you know a lot of them?” He sounded more confused, now, if anything. “If you know so many, how can you dislike them?”
“Just because they flock to my siblings doesn’t mean I like them!” Xander snapped out. “Now go away. Please ,” he added on at the end, through gritted teeth.
“Before I do,” Laslow said, frowning now, “Why? Why do you dislike them?”
Xander glared at the vigilante. He wasn’t going to tell him what had happened to him. To his siblings. He wasn’t about to divulge such personal information to a stranger. But if he didn’t answer somehow , the man probably wasn’t going to leave him alone. So he settled on a half truth, and said, “Well, for one, vigilantes are technically criminals,” in the harshest voice he had.
Laslow visibly hesitated at that. “No one enforces that rule anymore. Vigilantes are accepted by the government almost as much as registered heroes. More, maybe, since they don’t have to pay us.”
“They encourage civilians to put themselves in danger,” Xander continued, eyes flashing. “And they turn bad. Vigilantes always turn bad. And if no one has their name on record somewhere, then no one can track them down once they’ve turned.” Laslow looked troubled by this assessment, but Xander didn’t give him a chance to speak. “At least the others around me either don’t bother hiding their identities, or are just incompetent at it, but the ones that can, and do?” he said, fixing Laslow with a glare that could probably melt iron. “They represent the largest threat to this city, to my family , that exists at this time. It’s my duty to keep people like that as far away from my siblings as possible.” It had always been Xander’s job to protect his siblings. He was the shield between them and their father, then he was the shield between them and the rest of the world. And now, he was prepared to be their shield from the people that would most likely turn on them in the future.
Laslow was quiet for a long moment, one hand reaching up to touch his mask. Then, he looked back at Xander, suddenly emboldened. “I bet I could change your mind,” he said, moving closer once again.
Xander sidestepped him, face darkening. “No. You can’t. Now leave. I asked you politely, and you refused. If you continue to harass me, you’ll regret it.”
Laslow looked troubled by that, almost more than he’d been when Xander had called him a threat to the city. “Alright,” he said, subdued. “I’ll be taking my leave, then.” He left by going over to the nearest fire escape and climbing up it, Xander’s glare burning into his back.
Once the duelist was gone, Xander let out a long sigh, and let his shoulders sag. He was so tired of all of this. It took him several minutes to get ahold of himself again.
When he went into the cafe, Elise was the first person to see him, and her eyes went wide and she ducked out of his way, uncharacteristically nervous. That made Xander pause, and examine his reflection in the window pane.
He was struck with the sudden realization that, when he was in a bad mood, expression marred by a glare, he bore a terrifying resemblance to their father. The knowledge didn’t do anything to make him feel better, but it got the glare off of his face, replaced instead with something more melancholy. No wonder his sister had ran; if he were in her position, he might’ve, as well.
When he went through the kitchen and into the actual shop, he was greeted by something that made his mood brighten, at least a bit. Inigo was there, looking a bit rumpled, maybe a bit sadder than usual, but present all the same. An almost blank expression was fixed on the wall, though he glanced to the counter every minute or so, clearly looking for something. When he saw Xander, he finally approached, bypassing Camilla in order to speak with him. “Hi,” he said, looking almost worried. “Is everything okay? You look, uh, troubled.”
“It’s nothing,” Xander assured him, smiling slightly. It was so easy to smile at Inigo, even after the conversation he’d just had. More proof that his original reaction to the vigilante had just been a passing lapse of judgement. “What about you? You were giving the wall a very serious look a few moments ago.”
“Oh, just something a friend of mine said earlier,” Inigo gave a weak grin. “So, can I get a tall, hot, blonde coffee here, or does that description on fit the employees?”
Xander let out a small laugh. He felt, rather than saw, Camilla snap around to gape at him, and decided to ignore her. “Blonde coffee is Starbucks,” he said, the tense set of his shoulders relaxing. “But I can get you a tall hot coffee. Or, if you’d prefer to take it slow, I can cold-brew.” Camilla was gaping at him from the corner of his vision. Inigo’s face had started turning pink, but the worry from earlier had all but left him, so Xander counted it as a success.
“Well,” Inigo said, avoiding looking straight at him, but not retreating, not yet, “I think there’s already something brewing between the two of us, so I doubt you even have to bother.”
Xander smiled wider. His mind flashed back to Laslow flirting with him, and that gave him pause. He had thought he liked Laslow, at first. Sure, he didn’t want to admit it, but he really had, and he was lucky that Inigo had come along when he did, because who knows what would’ve happened if Xander hadn’t snapped out of it. He could be mooning after some vigilante, who probably flirts with every other person he comes across, and being drawn into the dangerous web that was always weaved by those with secret identities. But instead, he was in the Nohr Cafe, flirting comfortably with Inigo, and the worst vigilantes in his life were probably Odin and Niles, but they were so ridiculous it barely seemed to matter.
Xander opened his mouth, and said, “Inigo, would you like to go out sometime?”
Inigo’s face flushed a bright red, and his eyes shooting up to meet Xander’s own. “What? R- Really?”
“ Really? ” Camilla chorused, abandoning the customer whose order she’d been taking in favor of finally butting in on the conversation.
Xander could feel his own cheeks heating up now, but he fought to stay collected. “Yes. Really. If you’re amenable to the suggestion, that is.”
“I am!” Inigo rushed to assure him, barely seeming to notice Camilla. “I am, seriously, I just- I dunno, wasn’t expecting it?” He offered up a nervous grin. “I- I’d like that a lot, actually,” he admitted. “I guess- I dunno, until now I wasn’t having that great a day, so I wasn’t expecting something nice to happen.”
Xander felt his own blush growing at the indirect compliment. He cleared his throat slightly, glancing away. “W- Well, I- I’m glad to have helped,” he mumbled.
“What he means is,” Camilla stepped in, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder and giving Inigo a winning smile, “He would love to exchange phone numbers with you, and talk about when the date will be. Actually, it looks to me like it’s time for your break, Xander,” she said, pointedly looking at the watch she didn’t have on. “Take however long you need to set this up. I’ll look after the cafe.”
And with that, Xander found himself being ushered out from behind the counter by his younger sister. He blinked at her for a moment, taken aback, then turned to look at Inigo. “Alright,” he said, after a moment of apprehensive silence from the both of them, “What sort of food do you like?”