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It burns as Ignis inhales, but a tiny part of him is glad for the hint of pain, that he hasn’t yet succumbed to this in such a way that his body is used to it.
It’s worse for him that his coffee, comparable with the lack of sleep that causes said reliance.
Ignis remembers the first time he tried one, at a party with Gladio, feeling completely out of place until his boyfriend had draped his thick arm over his narrow shoulders and pulled him into his side. They’d been outside where it was quieter, where the people were actually willing to have a conversation instead of gyrate against each other in tempo with the banal music on the makeshift dance floor.
Someone had turned to them both, the little stick in their hand and they’d refused in perfect sync, a perfect couple for one shining moment. She’d laughed told them Ignis looked like he could do with relaxing a little and Ignis had refused more firmly, thinking he’d mistaken what was being offered to him.
One was simply bad for him but the other, at the time, could have cost him his position at Noct’s side. Could have cost him everything he'd worked for his entire life.
She’d laughed harder at that assuring him it was only tobacco and Ignis had reached out and taken it without thinking.
Gladio was obviously surprised but said nothing, even cupped his hand around the flame as Ignis attempted to light it in the soft breeze.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” he’d whispered, kissing Ignis on the forehead and returning the lighter to it’s owner.
Ignis had almost been sick. He’d coughed and sputtered, felt like his lungs might surely give in and collapse entirely while the small crowd laughed softly at his expense. Ignis had stubbed it out then and there, sworn loudly that he was done with the idea and yet.
And yet.
Gladio had slipped away to the bathroom and the girl had offered him another try and he’d taken it.
This time he didn’t inhale as deep and the burn was satisfying, the smoke he blew from his mouth a tantamount mark of rebellion.
Ignis had never done anything like that before, had rarely done something just for him, and certainly never went against what people wanted from him.
“I thought I told you not to make a habit it it,” Gladio says now and Ignis almost cracks his head against the window he was half leaning out of, desperate to keep the smell of the smoke outside his office. He leaves his arm dangling; the pale, disconnected limb the only part of him that could be visible from outside.
It’s not that Gladio doesn’t know about it, of course he does. At a push, when times a rough he’ll even replace the pack Ignis has stashed away in his desk drawer before it runs completely empty. Gladio hates it, but he loves Ignis. Enough not to complain too much, to still kiss him even when the taste of it is barely masked by toothpaste or a hastily downed can of Ebony.
“Six meetings,” Ignis tells him, “And I have to prepare the financial report from last weeks catastrophe by nine am tomorrow.”
Gladio huffs out a breath, “Have you ever heard of a work-life balance?”
“Have you?” Ignis retorts.
Gladio shrugs and Ignis turns back around, wedging himself half out the window again to enjoy the last few drags of his cigarette.
“At least the view is nice,” Gladio comments and Ignis’ chuckle almost makes him choke on the last draw.
He stubs out the end, discarding it alongside the others gathered on the narrow ledge outside his window, evidence of this thing that should feel shameful but is really only thrilling - satisfying.
Gladio’s closer than Ignis was expecting when he re-enters his office, slamming his window closed behind him.
His boyfriend waves a pack of gum and Ignis raises his hand, waiting for Gladio to tap two little pieces into his palm and tossing them into his mouth. Ignis chews, moving it around his mouth more than is probably necessary.
Gladio cups his jaw, passes his thumb over Ignis’ lips and he stops chewing, and tilts his head back a little. Hopeful.
Gladio kisses him, closed mouth and chaste. He smiles when he pulls away, stroking over his mouth with the rough pad of his thumb again.
“You’ll do,” Gladio tells him.