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- I -
It’s hard to know when Noctis ignores a text while he's at school if he’s ignoring it for good reason - because he’s paying attention in class - or if he’s chosen not to respond simply because he found the contents of the message particularly distasteful.
Ignis strongly suspects it’s the latter today.
Unexpectedly being called to the Citadel is bad enough, being called so when he’d asked for permission and properly arranged escort to visit the arcade with his new friend must feel like a particularly cruel punishment.
Ignis hasn’t met Prompto yet, Noct’s made sure of that, but he has given the information docket Monica had put together a cursory glance. Ignis knows that he’s a fair student with obvious preferences, fostered by a fairly well off couple that lives on the outskirts of the suburbs. There was more information in the docket than that of course, but Ignis hadn’t found it necessary - or worth the time - to read through it thoroughly.
Cor’s sign off is good enough.
Ignis purposefully arrives early, skipping his own final class of the day to be waiting at the car, leaning up against the door and bracing himself for something of an argument. Noctis will come, he always does, he’s not contrary on purpose, he always does what he has to do it’s just that sometimes he likes to make it very known how unfair he finds things.
Honestly, this time, Ignis agrees with him. There were a dozen other days this meeting could have been arranged for - Ignis had tried - but the council had insisted and overruled.
Ignis is watching the front doors when Noctis exits, elbow to elbow with a blond boy just a touch shorter than him. Noctis looks withdrawn but his friend is animated, touching Noct’s arm and taking his hand away again to make a broad gesture. He keeps up whatever he’s saying as they walk closer and by the time they’re within earshot of Ignis Noct is almost smiling.
“Hello,” Ignis says.
Noct shoots him a slightly dour look but Prompto smiles, even if he only manages to keep eye contact with him for a second.
“You know Gladio’s here too,” Noctis says.
“I beg your pardon?”
Noctis points over Ignis’ shoulder and a single glance confirms the statement. Climbing out of his family truck is Gladio, here to do the exact same job as Ignis.
“That was rather unnecessary of us,” Ignis says regretfully.
“As you’re here you can drive Prompto home,” Noctis tells him.
“Noct,” Prompto hisses and he tosses Ignis an apologetic look.
“I should really be at the meeting with you,” Ignis reminds him, “Perhaps -”
“You’re slightly less terrifying than Gladio,” Noctis says flatly, “You can drive Prompto home then come to the meeting.”
Ignis knows Noctis isn't really demanding anything. If Ignis says no, if he says it's not plausible then Noctis won’t push further than he already has. He could, they both know he could, but Noctis hates actually wielding the power he technically has over Ignis.
“I can walk,” Prompto says, “I told you -”
“This isn’t fair on you either,” Noctis interrupts.
Ignis hadn’t considered that. He’d only been thinking of Noctis, completely blinkered to the fact that another person was also having their afternoon derailed.
“It’s fine,” Prompto tells Noctis softly, “I know you’re important. We’ll rearrange.”
There’s something about the way he says it. The specific way he forms the words you’re important that heavily implies and I’m not.
Ignis couldn’t even argue against the fact, not really, Noctis is so important he rather nullifies almost everyone else around him. The fact that Noctis has taken notice of Prompto is the most interesting thing about him, as far as Ignis is concerned.
“I’ll drive you,” Ignis offers.
It’s the polite thing to do after all, Noctis will be fine in a meeting for a short while by himself. Ignis might even get back before the coffee has been fully distributed.
Noctis throws him a smile.
“It’s really okay,” Prompto says, “I don’t live far -”
“Farther than me,” Noctis points out, “And it looks like rain.”
That’s patently not true but Ignis doesn’t fight Noctis on it. Prompto looks like he might, casting a look up at the sky but ultimately keeping his mouth shut.
Gladio slaps Ignis on the shoulder when he joins the group and Ignis tamps down the desire to glare at him or jab an elbow into his ribs.
“You should have told me you were coming,” Ignis says without preamble.
“I knew you wouldn’t have it in you to actually throw Charmless in the car if he decided to properly put up a fuss,” Gladio explains, winking at Noctis who bristles so violently he almost makes noise.
Smartly Noctis doesn’t actually rise to the bait, telling his Shield, “You’re driving me back.”
“Don’t want Iggy’s heated seats?” Gladio teases.
Noctis rolls his eyes and, turning back to Prompto, holds up a fist a little uncertainly.
“See you tomorrow?”
Prompto beams at him, meeting Noctis’ fist with his own with enough enthusiasm that Ignis bites back a wince.
“Of course,” Prompto says, then drops his voice a little, “Seriously, don’t sweat today. We have all the time in the world to go to the arcade.”
Noctis nods, looking as relaxed as he had when they’d first found Ignis.
“Okay,” Noctis says on a sigh, “Let’s go.”
Gladio nudges Ignis in the shoulder.
“Did he introduce you?”
Ignis chuckles, answers with a shake of his head.
Noctis groans, “Prompto this is Ignis and Gladio. Guys this is Prompto. Okay? Now can we go?”
“Look who's eager all of a sudden,” Gladio muses but he offers Prompto a wave and turns in step with Noctis when he comes forward and tries to nudge him off towards his car.
Ignis watches them go until a small voice to his right says, “Hi.”
“Sorry,” Ignis apologises, “Hello, I’m Ignis.” He holds out his hand and Prompto takes it with slightly wide eyes, his grip passable but not overly impressive.
“I really can just walk,” Prompto says, “Like, you can just wait a few minutes and follow them, there’s no need for you to waste your time.”
“Simply standing here would be more of a waste of time than driving you home.”
Prompto blinks and his mouth cracks with an uneasy smile.
“O-kay then,” he says, “If you really don’t mind.”
Ignis steps away from the car, opening the passenger door for him and gesturing him inside.
By the time Ignis has climbed in on the other side Prompto's sitting rigidly, backpack tucked between his feet on the floor and his seatbelt snapped into place.
“Thank you for not forcing me to be a nag,” Ignis says, fixing his own.
“You’re welcome,” Prompto says, “Noct mentioned you were picky about it. I mean - sorry. You’re right, seat belts are important.”
“I suppose your parents say the same,” Ignis muses.
“We don’t have a car.”
“Ah.”
Ignis starts the engine and smoothly reverses from his space. Unlike Noctis, Prompto doesn’t immediately reach for his phone and ignore him. Instead he keeps looking at Ignis, shooting him a glance from the corner of his eye and opening his mouth with the intention to speak. Nothing comes out though and Ignis is steadily filled with dawning dread that he needs to find something to say because every moment that goes by with only the engine as background noise is more awkward than the last.
Hadn’t Noctis described Prompto as a chatterbox? Where is that boy now?
Maybe it’s Ignis. Maybe he’s finally become so cold and unapproachable that he renders even the most talkative of people silent.
They’re idling at a traffic light when Prompto suddenly gasps.
“What’s wrong?” Ignis asks, alarmed.
“Sorry,” Prompto says quickly, “But look -”
He points out the window at a park bench across the way. There’s two cats on it, kind of, one laying down on the seat, right at the edge and the other sitting facing it’s friend, their little noses touches in a kiss.
“Precious,” Ignis says, utterly charmed by the sight.
Prompto shoots him a real grin.
“Our neighbourhood has a lot of cats,” he says and Ignis hums to encourage him, “Sometimes one of them climbs in through my bedroom window and I have to carry him all the way through the house to put him outside again because apparently windows only work one way to him.”
Ignis laughs. It sounds like something Noctis would do.
“And one time he tried to steal one of my plushies and I was like no sir.”
Ignis finds he doesn’t need to say much now Prompto is going but he likes it, being able to simply react for a change and not having to take charge. He laughs a lot more than he has in a long time, at least so sincerely. He’s almost sad when he pulls up in front of Prompto’s house - the blond never questions how Ignis knows his address without asking - but feels appeased by the way Prompto thanks him three times over for the ride then hovers in his driveway waving Ignis off until he’s out of sight.
Ignis was wrong before.
There's something about Prompto that makes him special entirely in his own right.
- P -
They shouldn't have had to worry about traffic on a Tuesday afternoon, so even Ignis, in all his penchant for being over prepared, had not factored in taking almost half an hour to crawl along a quarter mile of road.
Prompto drums his fingers against the centre console and Ignis reaches out to still his fingers by laying his own palm over them.
“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles, snatching his hands back and tucking them under his thighs so he can’t be tempted to do it again. Gods, Ignis must find him so irritating.
They're friends now, and have been for some time. Otherwise Ignis wouldn’t have offered to give him a ride to Noct’s fancy birthday gala. Wouldn’t have arranged Prompto’s suit for him so he wouldn’t look out of place this evening. At least a little of that is probably Ignis’ desire to not see someone standing at Noct’s side not befitting of the place.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Ignis says calmly, “We’ll get there when we get there.”
“Right,” Prompto agrees. They lapse into relative silence, only the sounds of the city and the odd blare of a car horn to occupy them.
Ignis chuckles, seemingly without cause.
“What?” Prompto asks.
Ignis very lightly touches his knee, which Prompto had been bouncing up and down.
“Gods,” Prompto whines, “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll get there in time,” Ignis reassures again.
“We were supposed to get there early,” Prompto reminds him. “Noct’s gonna be so mad,” he complains.
“Noctis will be too distracted to even notice we’re not there yet,” Ignis says.
Which might actually be true, Prompto realises, considering the last text he got from his friend was a hastily tapped out thing to let him know Ignis had just left. There had been no hint of traffic on Ignis’ journey to Prompto, yet somehow in the time it took Ignis to slip inside his house and pick between Prompto’s nicest shoes every car in the city had taken to the roads between Prompto’s home and the Citadel.
“You may put the radio on if you like,” Ignis offers, “For something to distract you. “
“You don’t like having the radio on while you drive,” Prompto sighs, “Because it’s distracting.”
Ignis laughs again, “I can handle it, if it will make you feel better.”
Prompto ignores the offer and forces himself to sit back in his seat. He’s an adult now, graduated from High School with a full time job ready to go. He would have liked to go to college but everything just hadn’t lined up right. Maybe he can do it later; never say never and all that.
The radio crackles to life and before Prompto can work out what Ignis’ default station is the adviser is switching the channel, the squeak of channels going by rapidly fast until Ignis stops and the poppiest, most upbeat thing Prompto has ever heard fills the car.
“Um,” Prompto says because if Ignis doesn’t like the radio normally this must surely be hell for him.
Prompto’s not exactly thrilled. Even if Noct does tell him he should be ashamed of his eclectic music taste.
“You don’t like it?” Ignis asks lightly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, though he’s a little off beat, like he’s not really listening.
Prompto giggles, “No one likes this.”
“The concert Gladio took Iris to last year disagrees with you,” Ignis says, “And I know you have one of their songs on your running playlist.”
“I don’t!” Prompto squeaks - a complete and utter lie.
Ignis heaves a sigh, deep and terribly affected.
“I suppose you can put on something you think I’d prefer,” Ignis allows.
“I dunno, is there a station where they just read out the stock market or nah?”
Ignis laughs.
“You don’t know much about the stock exchange, do you?” Ignis asks when he’s sobered back up.
“Buy low, sell high,” Prompto says quickly, “Um…that’s all I’ve got.”
Ignis shakes his head and reaches for the radio, with a few button presses the music cuts out, replaced by a dry voice reciting figures and numbers on a seemingly endless loop.
“Oh gods,” Prompto complains, “I was joking, what the hell is this.”
Ignis shrugs.
“This should be illegal, I can’t believe you listen to this,” Prompto says.
“I don’t,” Ignis says, but less high pitched than Prompto had, of course. “Give me a little more credit than that,” Ignis pleads.
“So why was it preprogrammed?” Prompto asks.
Ignis looks away out the window.
Prompto laughs again, leaning forward to adjust the radio before he can be bored into a nap.
When the radio is pushing out a slow, easy kind of rock that settles in the centre of their combined tastes Prompto looks up and realises the car hasn’t moved at all since Ignis flipped the radio on.
“No, no,” Ignis says, “I had you nice and distracted.”
“Ignis,” Prompto sighs, face growing warm.
“We’ll get there and everything will be fine,” Ignis reassures him.
Remarkably, Prompto still feels relatively calm. He doesn't know if it's the music or the steadiness of Ignis there, unwavering in his resolve but something is working out in his favour for a change.
Prompto takes his eyes off the stationary car ahead of them, twists as much as his seatbelt allows to look at Ignis full on. Prompto's full focus seems to finally put Ignis a little on edge.
“What if there’s no time for me to do my hair?” Prompto asks, mockingly serious.
Ignis closes his eyes, presses his mouth into a flat line.
“Well if it’s not perfectly coiffed I will have to shave your head completely,” Ignis teases.
“No,” Prompto gasps, “You wouldn’t, I just got it to a length I like.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ignis confirms and Prompto trusts him, of course.
He trusts Ignis with anything.
- I -
Prompto spins to show Gladio the full glory of his uniform and the skirt of plaid attached to his vest raises up a little.
It looks strangely good, better than Ignis would have expected from what Prompto had described. Ignis isn't sure if that’s actually down to the tailoring or the person wearing the clothes.
Except he does know. It’s Prompto, of course it’s Prompto.
Ignis feels a little sting of melancholy take root in his chest, nestled right in beside his heart, the longing for something that may never now come to be.
It’s not even the finite loss of there being no possibility of Prompto hearing his feelings and being unable to answer in kind. Ignis is blessed to find Prompto’s heart beats for him the same way Ignis’ quakes in his chest whenever he comes near.
It’s simply time that is being so cruel to them.
Saturday.
They were supposed to go on their first date this coming Saturday. Ignis had planned the whole thing; an early dinner, but nothing too fancy, and a walk through the market district during golden hour where he would encourage Prompto to stop and take all the photos he wanted - Prompto’s excitement and wonder enough to keep Ignis entertained for hours.
Instead their time in Insomnia is being cut short, Prompto’s Crownsguard training crammed tight into an astonishingly brief time. No time for their date, no time for anything but getting Prompto’s uniform made and swearing him in.
They won’t even be in Insomnia on Saturday but on the road.
There’s simply no time for them.
Prompto had taken it in stride, a little smile and a whispered oh well. Which might have been the hardest part of all.
Ignis feels devastated but to Prompto it seems little more than an inconvenience, a blip barely noticed.
“Iggy,” Prompto says now, flitting over to him, “Will you drive me home? I want to try and catch my parents, do the last bit of packing.”
Prompto so rarely asks for things and his willingness to do so now, to ask Ignis for something, makes Ignis smile.
“I can’t believe you’re not finished yet.”
“Just the last few bits,” Prompto says. He glances over his shoulder to check Noctis and Gladio are preoccupied then steps a little closer to take Ignis’ hand.
“And it’ll give us a little time together before we go.”
Ignis feels his breath catch. He's so foolish. Of course Prompto cares, of course he’s been thinking about it too.
“I'd be delighted,” Ignis agrees, “Are you ready to go now?”
“No complaints about my uniform?” Prompto asks him, smiling so broad his eyes crinkle at the corners.
Ignis rolls his eyes but squeezes Prompto’s hand.
“You know very well I do not, darling.”
Prompto’s cheeks go delightfully pink, shuffling a little under the pet name. If Ignis was feeling particularly devious he’d sprinkle in a compliment too, watch Prompto fluster and deflect just so Ignis can repeat himself over and over again until the truth of the matter has sunk deep into Prompto’s bones.
“O-okay,” Prompto stammers, “Let’s go then.”
Ignis could kiss him. Except he hasn’t before, and he certainly doesn’t want to do it for the first time with Noctis and Gladio peering at them, with the King just a single wall away, likely to stumble upon them at any moment.
Prompto bids the others farewell before Ignis can say anything, apparently not caring if they see them holding hands so much as he wanted the act of taking Ignis’ hand to go without notice. Ignis is dragged to his car and Prompto, as ever, snaps his seatbelt into place and shoots Ignis a smile tinged with mischief.
Getting out of the garage is easy enough but they quickly find a queue of cars waiting to pass through the main gate. With a tiny frisson of annoyance Ignis pulls the car to a stop at the end of the line.
Though perhaps he shouldn't be annoyed, not if his time with Prompto is extended.
Silence forms between them for a few moments, not particularly awkward but also not entirely easy.
“I’m sorry about our date,” Ignis says.
Prompto shrugs again, “It’s okay.”
“You’re not - you’re not disappointed?” Ignis asks before he can stop himself.
Prompto turns to look at him.
“Of course I am,” Prompto says.
Ahead of them one of the cars sounds it’s horn.
“What do you think is going on?” Prompto murmurs.
Ignis doesn’t know, isn’t sure he really cares right now.
“You seemed not to mind very much,” Ignis says, pitching his voice to be apologetic rather than accusatory.
“I was looking forward to it,” Prompto explains, “But I don’t need a fancy date, Iggy. This is enough.”
The car sounds it’s horn again, the harsh sound blaring for longer than before.
“This is enough?” Ignis clarifies ruefully.
“Well, sure, I could do without us being caught in another traffic jam,” Prompto says, “But the important parts are all still here.”
Ignis doesn’t quite know what he means and that must show on his face because Prompto laughs, bright and sudden.
“You and me, Ignis,” Prompto says, “Jeez, for a smart guy you sure miss the obvious sometimes.”
Ignis bristles. Prompto means no harm, Ignis is sure, but he would much prefer if Prompto only saw him at his best.
“It’s sweet,” Prompto goes on, “That you were so worried about it. We can have as many dates as you like later, I promise.”
“You still want to -”
“Ignis,” Prompto interrupts, “Of course I do.”
Ignis inhales sharply. “I’m glad,” he admits.
Two cars sound their horns this time and Prompto rolls his eyes.
“So impatient,” he mutters, “Hey, Iggy?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you put the handbrake on?” Prompto asks him.
Ignis stares at him, puzzled by the strange question.
“I’ll assume because you always drive by the rules that you did,” Prompto muses and he unsnaps his seatbelt.
“Darling,” Ignis warns, feeling more concerned than he should be considering the car isn’t moving. Still his pulse is racing a little. Maybe Prompto’s had enough, and has decided to skip the queue by walking home instead.
“I’ll put it back when we’re moving again,” Prompto promises.
His hand touches Ignis’ jaw gently, a mix of warm soft leather and trembling bare fingertips. Ignis thinks he understands that at least, feels like he might just shake right out of his skin simply from the way Prompto is looking at him.
“Will we get fired if I kiss you here?” Prompto asks.
“Well, no. But -”
Even free from his seat belt the angle is a little weird, Ignis is still wearing his and can only twist so far. Resolutely Ignis keeps his hands on the steering wheel to stop himself from grabbing Prompto and dragging the blond straight into his lap. Prompto’s eager, if a little clumsy, and so perfect Ignis feels that little bolt of melancholy slowly drown under the joy of renewed hope, easy longing for all the things they apparently still have before them.
“So, we’re dating?” Ignis clarifies, the moment he has his breath back.
Prompto giggles and brushes the tip of his nose against Ignis’.
“You really didn’t know?”
- P -
The tires of the Regalia screech across the dry concrete when Ignis slams his foot on the break. Prompto puts his hands out to brace against the console in front of him even though he’s wearing his seatbelt because it’s just the two of them.
“Oh for heaven's…” Ignis mutters angrily.
There’s garulas in the road, ambling around rather than crossing quickly like normal. Prompto stretches up in his seat and sees the shiny red glint of another car waiting on the other side of the animals. Prompto wonders if they’ve already been here a while.
It’s annoying to say the least and the potential delay is a little concerning. Gladio's back at the haven, gritting his teeth through the pain of what must be a broken leg, seeing as the last of their curatives has been put to use patching up a hole in Ignis’ flank. There’s no danger, not really, but Ignis has had his jaw clenched painfully tight since the moment Noct had called we’re all out when he warped from adviser to shield to take stock of things.
They have money, that’s not even the problem, they’d just gotten so used to being at a surplus they’d been negligent in assessing their stocks while tackling a series of harder and harder tasks where they were, apparently, worse off for wear each time.
Ignis is probably blaming himself for that, too.
“Ignis,” Prompto whispers but his boyfriend ignores him, eyes glaring into the side of a garula that dares to just sit down in front of the Regalia.
“It’s going to be fine, Iggy,” Prompto says, “Gladio has toughed out worse.”
He’d come back from his time away with a gnarly scar on his chest that had obviously been haphazardly healed and another on his face that had shocked Prompto for the entire first week they were all reunited.
“He shouldn’t have to tough it out,” Ignis snaps.
Prompto agrees with him wholeheartedly, but Ignis using that tone with him is such a foreign concept that he flinches back from it.
Gladio hadn’t even seemed that bothered when they left, insisting that Prompto go with Ignis on the supply run and that he’d be safe on the haven with just him and Noctis. Mostly Gladio had seemed a little surprised, with Noct flitting about getting him drinks and double checking with Ignis if Gladio could take some form of traditional pain relief.
“You better to text them,” Ignis goes on, “If we’re going to be delayed further Gladio ought to take that medicine after all.”
Prompto pulls out his phone but glances around. There’s a barrier on each side of the road, the only gaps in it filled with lumbering creatures where they’ve paused in their journey. There really seems no way around so he messages Noct, hoping with no real trust that Gladio might be sleeping through it.
“Everything is gonna be fine,” Prompto murmurs.
Ignis huffs, “Everything is not fine.”
Ignis is pale, more so than normal, the shocking slash of red from his prior wound still visible on his shirt. He hadn’t stopped to change when he’d realised what was happening, helping Prompto support Gladio back to the car then into a chair on the haven before turning and trying to head right back to the car. He might have gone off alone if Prompto hadn't caught his hand to stop him.
“I didn’t say it was fine now,” Prompto says, and it's so strange to be the calm one in a fraught situation. “I said it would be fine.”
“That’s not good enough,” Ignis says, “I never should have let us get into this situation.”
“Ignis,” Prompto says firmly, “None of this is your fault.”
“I got hurt and selfishly used a potion before checking that anyone else was injured -”
“You would have bled out, Iggy. Noct knew -”
“- I neglected to keep track of our supplies. I couldn’t even prevent you from getting hurt despite being right beside you at the time.”
Prompto startles, looks down at his pants where a new rip is visible on his thigh, the thin little gash from a tooth or claw just visible. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even sting; Prompto’s pretty sure he barely even reacted at the time. He’d been more concerned when Ignis had hit the ground, spilling crimson all over the grass, forcing himself to step up alongside the others and push back the attack.
“This is nothing,” Prompto says and reaches for Ignis’ hand, gently unclenching his fingers one by one from the wheel and pulling it around to press against his cheek. Prompto’s shocked to feel that Ignis’ hand is shaking. “I’m so completely, one hundred percent fine. I wouldn’t even take a curative if we had one.”
“Foolish,” Ignis says, voice a little choked.
Prompto laughs but it’s hollow because Ignis seems unable to look at him.
“Babe,” Prompto whispers and that usually works because before him Ignis had never been on the receiving end of a pet name he didn’t find demeaning. But today Ignis doesn’t bite even a little, going so far as to turn fractionally further away from him.
Prompto drops Ignis’ hand and scrambles for his seatbelt so he can yank it free.
“The engine is still running,” Ignis says, probably on reflex alone.
Prompto ignores him, climbing up so he’s uncomfortably kneeling over the mid-console, handbrake digging into his thigh and thankful that the roof is down so he’s not bashing his head.
“Iggy,” Prompto says carefully, taking Ignis’ face in his hands and forcing him to turn and meet Prompto’s gaze. “Everyone is fine.”
“Everyone is hurt,” Ignis responds.
His eyes are frantic, a far cry from the steadiness Prompto is used to seeking and finding when he needs something to ground himself. Ignis doesn’t reach out to touch him and Prompto wonders if that’s to hide the fact his hands are still shaking.
“No one’s life is in danger,” Prompto says firmly, “Ignis, I need you to breathe, please.”
Ignis takes in a short breath, pinched through his nose and it must be completely unsatisfying. Prompto leans down, slots his forehead to Ignis’ and drops one hand from his face to reach for his hand again. Prompto presses Ignis’ palm to his chest, right over his heart.
“Pay attention,” Prompto murmurs, “Breathe with me.”
Ignis’ breath hitches at first, a little sound that's almost wet in the still air.
“I’m fine, Ignis,” Prompto says, “You’re fine, Noct’s fine, Gladio is going to be fine.”
Ignis shudders, his shoulders rise and fall as he sucks in a deep breath then another and another and another.
“That’s it,” Prompto murmurs, “That’s it, everything is fine. You’re doing so good.”
Ignis only breathes for a while and Prompto slowly strokes over his cheek with his thumb, peering down at his trembling eyelashes.
“Sorry,” Ignis says softly, after a few minutes has passed.
Prompto snorts, “Like you haven’t done the same for me a dozen times.”
“Yes, well,” Ignis says. He finally moves then, wrapping his arms around Prompto’s waist and turning to tuck his face into the curve of Prompto’s neck, still breathing in a deep slow way that indicates precise control rather than natural rhythm.
“Figures I owe you one,” Prompto says, dragging his fingers through the shorter hair at Ignis’ nape in the hope of helping him settle.
“I much prefer being in your position,” Ignis says, “I understand that’s selfish.”
“Climbing all over me in the car you mean?” Prompto teases.
Ignis gives a weak chuckle. “That too,” he says softly.
“We might be here a while,” Prompto says, “I’m just saying if you -”
Ignis laughs properly, shoving Prompto carefully back into his seat.
Where he makes him put his seatbelt back on.
- I -
Technically, this was Noctis’ idea.
As frustrated as they were that their entire relationship had developed in the confines of a car with two other people in it and trying to grasp a little privacy on the edge of a haven before the sun sinks completely beneath the horizon he'd put his foot down, literally, and told them to take some time for themselves while Cid fixes up the boat.
It could be frustration or it could just be annoyance at the way Ignis stares at Prompto whenever he thinks he can get away with it. How in the brief moments he has with nothing to do or focus on Ignis inevitably spends them just watching. Prompto doesn’t always notice but it’s just as fun when he does, how he flushes and flusters and begs Ignis to please, stop. Ignis never does of course, because Prompto doesn’t really mean it, but at least then he has Prompto’s attention to himself for a little while, seeming to think putting himself right in Ignis’ path the best way to stop him staring.
Ignis won’t ever complain about that.
The rain drumming into the roof of the Regalia as thick and heavy as bullets he has something to say about, however.
“I’m so sorry,” Ignis says.
“You can’t control the weather,” Prompto says easily.
They were supposed to be going on a date. Just the two of them.
Sometimes when they’re stopped over in Lestallum they’ll go off for dinner by themselves or slip off to share a slice of cake and a hot drink. But the actual number of individual dates they’ve managed in the six months since Ignis realised they were, in fact, dating are woefully low. Circumstances are against them, of course, and at least they can be certain they're suited to living with one another in the long run - if they had any clashing habits Ignis is sure they would have discovered them by now.
A picnic, Ignis had decided yesterday evening, looking out at the vast expanse of still and calm ocean visible from the windows in Cape Caem. A picnic would be just the thing. They’d be alone, it wouldn’t dip into their funds any more than Ignis does any time he cooks lunch and Prompto would like the charming simplicity of the whole thing. As well as a chance to stretch their legs without, Ignis had hoped, having to worry about any fighting.
Nothing about yesterday had implied that there would be a torrential downpour of rain just a few minutes about from Caem, so heavy and thick that Ignis had felt compelled to pullover into the first lay-by he found as visibility was so poor.
“I know but -”
“Ignis,” Prompto almost sings, “I told you before, remember, I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”
“You deserve something special,” Ignis tells him.
“One day everything will be easy and calm again,” Prompto says, “And I’ll let you spoil me.”
“Spoil you, you say?” Ignis clarifies, smiling at the thought. Prompto is so completely unbothered by things and grand gestures, does not need much more than a sweet kiss in the morning and a hand on his thigh while Ignis drives to feel completely doted upon.
“Just once,” Prompto clarifies, “And I get to take a turn too.”
Ignis wonders what that would be like. Giving over the control of meticulous planning to Prompto’s slightly less organised thoughts doesn’t frighten him like he thinks it should. He’s excited mostly, to be led into the world by Prompto’s hand whenever he feels so inclined.
“Fair is fair,” Ignis agrees.
“Maybe when we get to Altissia?” Prompto suggests, “Or will we have to grab Luna and rush back?”
Ignis doesn’t rightly know. Isn’t sure if, as soon as they’re all united, Noctis and Luna should push through with the wedding or not. Doesn’t know if reuniting with Luna is enough or if there are more seemingly insurmountable tasks ahead of them.
“I’ll try my best,” Ignis promises, “Hopefully the weather will be more reliable.”
“Ignis,” Prompto sings again, “Come on, we can still have a good time now.”
“Enlighten me, darling,” Ignis says, just to make Prompto blush.
“Well,” Prompto starts, turning to face his boyfriend and putting a hand on Ignis’ knee. He blinks at Ignis, eyes impossibly wide and beautiful and blue.
“If someone would loosen up the rules about eating in the car we could just have our picnic in here,” Prompto explains.
Ignis particularly hates it when they eat in the Regalia when the roof is up and the windows closed but he reaches out to run the pad of his thumb over the distended pout of Prompto’s bottom lip and says, “Just this once.”
“Holy shit you’re kidding,” Prompto laughs.
“Don’t tell the others,” Ignis teases.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Ignis’ hand still against Prompto’s mouth and his boyfriends eyes go wide in a different way - frantic and panicked.
“Um,” Prompto says, “Sorry - that was dumb.”
“No,” Ignis says, “Not dumb. Of course it’s not dumb.”
Ignis needs to say something else but he can barely concentrate for the rushing in his ears.
Prompto loves him. Said it almost easily, like it’s been waiting on the tip of his tongue to burst forth into the world. Ignis has been feeling it, thick and molten inside of him whenever they’re alone, simmering when Prompto rolls over in the tent to whisper a kiss against his cheek to bid him goodnight.
Ignis has felt it but not dared to say it, not sure if it was sensible or safe in the topsy-turvy world they find themselves in.
“I’ll um, I’ll get the food,” Prompto says, retreating from beneath Ignis’ hand.
It’s that which jerks him to life, the sudden shock of coldness against his palm.
“Prompto,” Ignis says roughly, quickly reaching to take his chin before he can turn fully away.
“It’s fine,” Prompto goes on, words tumbling together in a rush, “It’s fast and you want to take things slow, I won’t say it again. I won’t bring it up. You don’t have to say anything or try and make me feel better.”
“Darling,” Ignis coos and Prompto’s mouth snaps shut. “Of course I love you, too. However could I not?”
“I - oh.”
For a moment they stare at each other, the weight of the confession heavy around them.
“Ignis?” Prompto whispers.
“Hmm?”
“Can we reconsider the no kissing in the car rule too?” Prompto asks.
“Just this once,” Ignis murmurs, sliding his hand back along Prompto’s jaw as he leans in.
- P -
It’s been a long time since he and Ignis were in the Citadel’s underground parking garage, trapped together in a car.
Things have changed of course, Prompto drives now because Ignis can’t and Noct sits the throne instead of his father.
Prompto’s starting to think this was a really dumb idea.
Cute, he’d initially thought, charming and reminiscent of so much of their life together.
Prompto doesn’t know where else he would do this - literally nothing else that wasn’t terrible and cliched springing to mind.
The problem, of course, is that they’re not currently alone in the car like they’re supposed to be – for perhaps the first time in Prompto's working memory.
“I just think it’s a waste of money,” Noctis tells Ignis, leaning forward so he’s almost half wedged between the front seats.
“And I think you’re underestimating the benefits of boosted morale,” Ignis argues. They’ve been going over and over this for days. Why did Noct have to dig his feet in now, why was tonight the night that he was determined to have this thing signed off and finished, no longer a loose end?
Prompto sighs and Ignis’ head tilts towards him but Noctis doesn’t seem to notice. In his defence, he’s usually better at picking up on Prompto’s moods when he’s not in the midst of a blind, blinkered focus.
“There has to be a middle ground,” Noctis says, “A celebration, I agree, but without completely emptying the royal coffers.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say all week,” Ignis says, “But you haven’t been listening.”
“I always listen -”
One of the back doors opens and Prompto lets his head drop down onto the steering wheel with a thunk.
“Alright Princess,” Gladio says, “Enough is enough. Time for physio.”
“In a minute,” Noctis deflects. Prompto wonders if that’s exactly why he’d picked today of all days to follow them down to the car, simply to avoid his physiotherapy appointment.
“Noctis,” Ignis says, “We can pick this up tomorrow.”
Noct falls silent but doesn’t get out of the car.
“Iggy and Prom are supposed to be going on a date, idiot,” Gladio tells him.
Except they’re not, not really. Prompto was just going to drive them somewhere, park up and ask the most important question of his life. He hadn’t quite decided where yet, trusting that his gut would decide for him once he was on the road.
Maybe he could park where they’d got caught in traffic that time, or by the park where Ignis had caught him running one morning, limping after a fall and insisted on driving him home - finally asking Prompto out on that date they’d never gotten to have when he rolled to a stop outside Prompto’s home.
“Right,” Noct mumbles, “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”
Noct slides out of the car, grunting in pain as he stretches out his knee.
“Physio,” Gladio snaps, also straightening out of the car, “Now.”
They’re outside but neither of them leave, hovering by the open doors.
“The physio isn’t working,” Noctis argues, “You’re just making it hurt for no reason.”
“Oh gods,” Prompto groans.
“That’s not true, stop being a baby,” Gladio chides, “You know it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
“Prompto,” Ignis says, “Darling, is something the matter?”
“Everything is fine,” Prompto says but there’s no way Ignis falls for it, not with how hollow the words sound.
“Where are we going?” Ignis asks.
Prompto opens his mouth to tell a lie - a small one, that won’t matter in a while - but whatever he might have come up with is drowned out by Noctis and Gladio starting to bicker over the roof of the car.
“Unbelievable,” Prompto mutters.
Then Ignis’ phone rings.
Prompto thinks he might cry.
“Hello?” Ignis murmurs into the receiver, “Yes. I can do that but - it’ll have to be tomorrow. Yes, with Prompto. Of course Monica, email it over and that should be fine.”
Maybe this is the world telling him he shouldn’t do it, screaming at him that this isn’t the right time so do this - he’s being too hasty again, too eager to press on and forward rather than relishing what he does have.
Except they’ve been together ten years, more than, technically.
Prompto’s completely done with waiting.
“Sorry, love,” Ignis says, “I’ve turned it off now.”
Then, remarkably, both the back doors slam shut and Prompto thinks, hopes they’re definitely about to finally be alone.
Noctis puts his hands on the edge of the open window and leans down.
“Where are you guys even going?”
For probably the first time in his life Prompto considers punching his best friend in the face.
“Yeah,” Gladio chimes in, poking his head in on Ignis’ side of the car. “Why are you in a rush anyway, not like there are restaurants open taking reservations.”
“No, we’re just -”
“You guys don’t have to sneak off to be alone anymore,” Noctis laughs, “You have your own suite upstairs.”
“Maybe they’re trying to rekindle some of that old spark,” Gladio teases, “The thrill of sneaking around, trying to get it over with before a daemon bites them in the ass.”
Ignis scoffs, “You’re incorrigible.”
“No but seriously -”
“Oh for gods’ sake,” Prompto groans, rubbing his hands over his face, patience worn thinner than tissue paper.
“Come on, Prompto,” Noct nudges, “Don’t be shy.”
“I’m trying to propose,” Prompto snaps, voice so loud it's almost a yell.
For a long moment nothing happens then Noctis withdraws from the car so quickly Prompto’s pretty sure he cracks his head against the metal frame.
“Sorry,” Gladio has the grace to whisper before doing the same - though taking better care of his head.
Ignis exhales a little shakily, his hands finding the button to roll his window all the way up. It’s a little harder for him to do Prompto’s side, leaning half over the console to fumble around the steering wheel for it and almost blaring the horn in the process. Prompto can’t help him, though he knows he should. Prompto can’t move, completely flabbergasted at his own inability to keep his cool, to keep his mouth shut in a moment when it really needed to stay closed.
“Prompto,” Ignis says, all breathless wonder and Prompto peels his eyes open to look at him, still half leaning in so he’s close by, the edge of the scar around his eye just visible over the edge of his visor.
“I’m so stupid,” Prompto mumbles.
“You’re perfect,” Ignis insists.
Prompto feels that compliment right in his chest, a little flutter of happiness on the edge of his heart. Prompto doesn’t believe it’s true, but he does believe that Ignis thinks it is, and that’s more than good enough.
“You were really going to propose?” Ignis asks.
Prompto nods, “I have a ring.”
“You were going to propose in the car.”
“Not here,” Prompto defends himself. “But yeah, because -”
“Where else?” Ignis finishes for him.
Prompto laughs, delirious with relief that Ignis at least doesn’t seem angry.
“Can I feel the ring?” Ignis asks.
“In a minute,” Prompto says, admitting, “My hands feel numb for some reason.”
“You can’t have thought I’d say no,” Ignis says, with a little chuckle.
“A teeny tiny bit,” Prompto says, “We haven’t talked about it for a while.”
Ignis hums and leans further into Prompto’s space so it’s the easiest thing in the world for Prompto to lean forward and reassure himself by stealing a quick kiss.
“I have one request,” Ignis says.
“Anything,” Prompto breathes.
“If we could avoid actually getting married in the car I’d very much appreciate it.”