It's different, with Ignis, Prompto finds.. He remembers quite clearly – painfully so, sometimes – how things were with Noctis, how young they were, how Prompto had never even had a friend before, and his feelings had been overwhelming and boundless, and Noctis' had been the same in return. Everything had been shy, but eager, and at the time feelings had seemed limitless.
It isn't the same for Prompto, this time around. He's older, for a start, and both he and Ignis know the pain of regret, of things unsaid, undone, never to be. So it creeps up on Prompto, really, quietly, but steadily. He finds comfort and solace in Ignis, in a piece of his home and his past, and he hopes that in return Ignis has been able to find comfort in Prompto, he certainly tries, at least.
He thinks that's all it really is at first, friend's lending each other strength and support in dark times. Ignis is there, with a shoulder to lean on, or a hand to squeeze, or even arms wound tightly around Prompto, when he needs them, and he thinks that's all there is to it. Until he realises, on nights when he's alone, how his thoughts always stray back to Ignis, wishing he were there, worried for his safety, missing his warmth, that there's more to it than simple comfort. At least as far as Prompto's concerned. There's definitely more to it, when he finds himself imagining what it might be like to kiss Ignis. He misses that.
They're sharing a caravan again, and they're in Hammerhead at the moment. What was once Takka's restaurant has become headquarters for hunters, over the years, and hunting is what keeps Ignis and Prompto busy.
It's night now, or what's supposed to be night, the only true indication any more are the times on their phones, and Prompto's cooking dinner. He's spent his day fixing the lights and other various things around Hammerhead. Besides hunting, tinkering, fixing, and enhancing things are what takes up most of Prompto's time. He's learnt a lot from Cid especially, about enhancing weapons. It's not the best, but it's not the worst either, he supposes, and he likes being able to do what he can to try and help keep people safe.
He's just spooning some food into two bowls when Ignis steps from the tiny shower room, washed and dressed again after a day spent hunting. Prompto glances over at Ignis, and finds himself, as always, in complete awe of him. He knows Ignis can fight and hold his own against daemons still, and he's witnessed it many times now, but it never stops amazing him, how Ignis can do all that, and still come back, most of the time, without even a scratch on him. Prompto's sure he's never known anyone as incredible, to be honest.
“Something smells wonderful,” Ignis says, moving with ease towards the tiny kitchen. His hair is brushed down over his forehead, still damp from his shower. It makes him look so much younger, more like his actual age, Prompto thinks.
“Oh, it's not nearly as good as yours,” Prompto says, as always, struck by the sincerity in Ignis' comments. He's gotten better at cooking over the years, out of necessity, but nothing really rivals Ignis' cooking. “Just a simple stew.” Prompto pushes a bowl in front of Ignis as he takes a seat.
“Even so,” Ignis insists, and he smiles softly across the table at Prompto.
Prompto smiles back; he hopes, even though Ignis can't see it, that he can feel it, aimed at him. “Well as long as it's edible I'll be happy!” He says, picking up his spoon. “Spoon's on your right,” he adds.
They eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, Prompto savours how normal it almost is, sitting here, sharing a meal with Ignis. He's so grateful that he's not alone right now. After years of doing so as a kid, Prompto hates eating alone, there's nothing quite as lonely, he finds. So he's glad, and happy, that he has Ignis here, to enjoy the meal with.
“Hmm, a touch too much salt, I think,” Ignis says after a few mouthfuls. It's not a criticism, Prompto always asks for ways to improve.
“Yeah, you're right,” Prompto agrees. “Thanks, I'll remember for next time.”
“This is delicious though,” Ignis says, a moment later. “Thank you, Prompto.” There's a smile, aimed at Prompto, and the sincerity in those words strikes a chord within Prompto, has him considering some of the thoughts that have been passing through his mind lately. It's simple, but knowing that he's done something for Ignis makes him happy. He just wishes he could do more, Prompto's always been the least useful of the four of them, he knows, and sometimes his desire to do more for those he loves feels restricted by the knowledge that he's not really very good at anything. Still, with Ignis' smile still lingering in his memory, Prompto finds it hard to be too down on himself, and he'll take the small things, like cooking Ignis a meal and making him smile.
They continue to eat, alternating between an easy silence and comfortable small talk. He can almost imagine it's just a normal evening. Except he can hear the heavy footfalls of an iron giant striding around, somewhere down the road, see the unnatural glow of some fire bombs in the distance, their light different from the other lights that leak through the thin curtains. He'll take almost, as well, though.
When they're finished, they stand in the tiny kitchenette together, washing up the dishes. Ignis had insisted he would do them, as Prompto had done the cooking, but Prompto insists on helping. It's an easy routine to fall into, giving Ignis a hand, although Prompto feels entirely different things now than he did, during those days on the road.
It's almost painfully domestic, as Prompto washes and Ignis dries, shoulders and legs bumping occasionally, as there's hardly room for two full grown men really in the small space, but Prompto likes it. Wishes perhaps the circumstances could be better, but he's gotten used to not pining too hard for those good old days, when he can help it, and focusing on what good he can find now. Ignis is part of that good, he thinks. Maybe most of that good, he reconsiders, thinking of the comfort Ignis gives him.
When the last dish is put away, Prompto turns towards Ignis, close in the small space, reaches out with one hand, rests it lightly in the curve of Ignis' elbow. If there's one thing Prompto has learnt after everything, it's that time and opportunity are terrible things to waste and let slip by. He doesn't want to let lost moments slip away again. He's almost certain, well, possibly almost certain – hopeful, really, not at all certain, that he's not the only one who feels this slow build up of heat between them. He thinks he sees Ignis widen his eye, a little, at Prompto's touch. He can't be the only one who feels this. It's been there for some time, after all, in their quiet moments together, in the comfort of a touch, or an easy embrace, the offering of a smile, a laugh. Unhurried, but constant.
“Ignis,” Prompto says, looks up into his face; he's so handsome, in this moment, still damp hair in his face, an Ignis he doesn't see all that often. It's brave, he thinks, what he's about to do, because there's something about stating intentions that feels scarier than just going ahead and doing it, consequences be damned. There's a chance for Ignis to say no, but Prompto is not quite as thoughtless as he used to be, and he doesn't want Ignis to be caught unaware. “Can I kiss you?” He says it, words coming out in a rush before he can properly think about it.
Ignis stills for a moment, his eye on Prompto, but unseeing, and just as Prompto's starting to worry, Ignis let's out the breath he must have been holding. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands move, first finding their way to Prompto's shoulders, before one trails up Prompto's neck, sends a slight shiver through Prompto's body. He feels fingers against his jaw, then lightly tracing the curve of his lips, and then Ignis leans down and kisses Prompto.
It's soft, when their mouths meet, and their lips move together sweetly. They kiss with care, with longing, as if savouring every moment of this connection. It's nothing like any of Prompto's other first kisses with people, and his mind is so full of Ignis, of the warmth of this moment. He leans into the kiss, into Ignis, his hand moves to Ignis' waist, fingers curling loosely into the fold of Ignis' shirt. Prompto feels as Ignis sighs into their kiss, a soft breath against his lips, and a small sound escapes the back of his throat. He feels Ignis' hand cupping the side of his face, fingers brushing against Prompto's warming cheeks.
It's not passionate, but there's a definite heat there, slow, just beneath the surface. Prompto kind of wants to melt a little, as Ignis continues to kiss him so tenderly. His heart is beating heavily inside his chest when they pull apart, and Prompto's a little lost for words and for breath.
“I hope it was okay,” he says eventually, and they haven't moved from where they were, the only loss of contact so far the one between their lips.
“Your kiss was more than 'okay',” Ignis answers, fingers brushing lightly across Prompto's cheek.
He feels his cheeks warm a little then, wonders vaguely to himself if he'll ever be too old to blush. “I meant kissing you at all, not how it was,” he says, embarrassed. Prompto's done enough kissing by this point in his life that it's a skill he doesn't have to worry about, thanks.
Ignis laughs then, quietly, but a laugh all the same, and there's a teasing quality to his voice when he speaks. “I know exactly what you meant.” The sound of it has Prompto's heart lifting, because that easy teasing they'd all partaken in has been hard to come by the last few years, and it's so nice when it does happen. “And I meant exactly what I said.”
Prompto huffs, but it's without annoyance, really, because he's smiling. He feels Ignis' fingers move to the corner of his lips, sees him smile in return.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Fill 4/5: Prompto/Noct & Gladio/Ignis becomes Prompto/Ignis during the Long Dark
Date: 2017-04-19 11:51 am (UTC)It isn't the same for Prompto, this time around. He's older, for a start, and both he and Ignis know the pain of regret, of things unsaid, undone, never to be. So it creeps up on Prompto, really, quietly, but steadily. He finds comfort and solace in Ignis, in a piece of his home and his past, and he hopes that in return Ignis has been able to find comfort in Prompto, he certainly tries, at least.
He thinks that's all it really is at first, friend's lending each other strength and support in dark times. Ignis is there, with a shoulder to lean on, or a hand to squeeze, or even arms wound tightly around Prompto, when he needs them, and he thinks that's all there is to it. Until he realises, on nights when he's alone, how his thoughts always stray back to Ignis, wishing he were there, worried for his safety, missing his warmth, that there's more to it than simple comfort. At least as far as Prompto's concerned. There's definitely more to it, when he finds himself imagining what it might be like to kiss Ignis. He misses that.
They're sharing a caravan again, and they're in Hammerhead at the moment. What was once Takka's restaurant has become headquarters for hunters, over the years, and hunting is what keeps Ignis and Prompto busy.
It's night now, or what's supposed to be night, the only true indication any more are the times on their phones, and Prompto's cooking dinner. He's spent his day fixing the lights and other various things around Hammerhead. Besides hunting, tinkering, fixing, and enhancing things are what takes up most of Prompto's time. He's learnt a lot from Cid especially, about enhancing weapons. It's not the best, but it's not the worst either, he supposes, and he likes being able to do what he can to try and help keep people safe.
He's just spooning some food into two bowls when Ignis steps from the tiny shower room, washed and dressed again after a day spent hunting. Prompto glances over at Ignis, and finds himself, as always, in complete awe of him. He knows Ignis can fight and hold his own against daemons still, and he's witnessed it many times now, but it never stops amazing him, how Ignis can do all that, and still come back, most of the time, without even a scratch on him. Prompto's sure he's never known anyone as incredible, to be honest.
“Something smells wonderful,” Ignis says, moving with ease towards the tiny kitchen. His hair is brushed down over his forehead, still damp from his shower. It makes him look so much younger, more like his actual age, Prompto thinks.
“Oh, it's not nearly as good as yours,” Prompto says, as always, struck by the sincerity in Ignis' comments. He's gotten better at cooking over the years, out of necessity, but nothing really rivals Ignis' cooking. “Just a simple stew.” Prompto pushes a bowl in front of Ignis as he takes a seat.
“Even so,” Ignis insists, and he smiles softly across the table at Prompto.
Prompto smiles back; he hopes, even though Ignis can't see it, that he can feel it, aimed at him. “Well as long as it's edible I'll be happy!” He says, picking up his spoon. “Spoon's on your right,” he adds.
They eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, Prompto savours how normal it almost is, sitting here, sharing a meal with Ignis. He's so grateful that he's not alone right now. After years of doing so as a kid, Prompto hates eating alone, there's nothing quite as lonely, he finds. So he's glad, and happy, that he has Ignis here, to enjoy the meal with.
“Hmm, a touch too much salt, I think,” Ignis says after a few mouthfuls. It's not a criticism, Prompto always asks for ways to improve.
“Yeah, you're right,” Prompto agrees. “Thanks, I'll remember for next time.”
“This is delicious though,” Ignis says, a moment later. “Thank you, Prompto.” There's a smile, aimed at Prompto, and the sincerity in those words strikes a chord within Prompto, has him considering some of the thoughts that have been passing through his mind lately. It's simple, but knowing that he's done something for Ignis makes him happy. He just wishes he could do more, Prompto's always been the least useful of the four of them, he knows, and sometimes his desire to do more for those he loves feels restricted by the knowledge that he's not really very good at anything. Still, with Ignis' smile still lingering in his memory, Prompto finds it hard to be too down on himself, and he'll take the small things, like cooking Ignis a meal and making him smile.
They continue to eat, alternating between an easy silence and comfortable small talk. He can almost imagine it's just a normal evening. Except he can hear the heavy footfalls of an iron giant striding around, somewhere down the road, see the unnatural glow of some fire bombs in the distance, their light different from the other lights that leak through the thin curtains. He'll take almost, as well, though.
When they're finished, they stand in the tiny kitchenette together, washing up the dishes. Ignis had insisted he would do them, as Prompto had done the cooking, but Prompto insists on helping. It's an easy routine to fall into, giving Ignis a hand, although Prompto feels entirely different things now than he did, during those days on the road.
It's almost painfully domestic, as Prompto washes and Ignis dries, shoulders and legs bumping occasionally, as there's hardly room for two full grown men really in the small space, but Prompto likes it. Wishes perhaps the circumstances could be better, but he's gotten used to not pining too hard for those good old days, when he can help it, and focusing on what good he can find now. Ignis is part of that good, he thinks. Maybe most of that good, he reconsiders, thinking of the comfort Ignis gives him.
When the last dish is put away, Prompto turns towards Ignis, close in the small space, reaches out with one hand, rests it lightly in the curve of Ignis' elbow. If there's one thing Prompto has learnt after everything, it's that time and opportunity are terrible things to waste and let slip by. He doesn't want to let lost moments slip away again. He's almost certain, well, possibly almost certain – hopeful, really, not at all certain, that he's not the only one who feels this slow build up of heat between them. He thinks he sees Ignis widen his eye, a little, at Prompto's touch. He can't be the only one who feels this. It's been there for some time, after all, in their quiet moments together, in the comfort of a touch, or an easy embrace, the offering of a smile, a laugh. Unhurried, but constant.
“Ignis,” Prompto says, looks up into his face; he's so handsome, in this moment, still damp hair in his face, an Ignis he doesn't see all that often. It's brave, he thinks, what he's about to do, because there's something about stating intentions that feels scarier than just going ahead and doing it, consequences be damned. There's a chance for Ignis to say no, but Prompto is not quite as thoughtless as he used to be, and he doesn't want Ignis to be caught unaware. “Can I kiss you?” He says it, words coming out in a rush before he can properly think about it.
Ignis stills for a moment, his eye on Prompto, but unseeing, and just as Prompto's starting to worry, Ignis let's out the breath he must have been holding. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands move, first finding their way to Prompto's shoulders, before one trails up Prompto's neck, sends a slight shiver through Prompto's body. He feels fingers against his jaw, then lightly tracing the curve of his lips, and then Ignis leans down and kisses Prompto.
It's soft, when their mouths meet, and their lips move together sweetly. They kiss with care, with longing, as if savouring every moment of this connection. It's nothing like any of Prompto's other first kisses with people, and his mind is so full of Ignis, of the warmth of this moment. He leans into the kiss, into Ignis, his hand moves to Ignis' waist, fingers curling loosely into the fold of Ignis' shirt. Prompto feels as Ignis sighs into their kiss, a soft breath against his lips, and a small sound escapes the back of his throat. He feels Ignis' hand cupping the side of his face, fingers brushing against Prompto's warming cheeks.
It's not passionate, but there's a definite heat there, slow, just beneath the surface. Prompto kind of wants to melt a little, as Ignis continues to kiss him so tenderly. His heart is beating heavily inside his chest when they pull apart, and Prompto's a little lost for words and for breath.
“I hope it was okay,” he says eventually, and they haven't moved from where they were, the only loss of contact so far the one between their lips.
“Your kiss was more than 'okay',” Ignis answers, fingers brushing lightly across Prompto's cheek.
He feels his cheeks warm a little then, wonders vaguely to himself if he'll ever be too old to blush. “I meant kissing you at all, not how it was,” he says, embarrassed. Prompto's done enough kissing by this point in his life that it's a skill he doesn't have to worry about, thanks.
Ignis laughs then, quietly, but a laugh all the same, and there's a teasing quality to his voice when he speaks. “I know exactly what you meant.” The sound of it has Prompto's heart lifting, because that easy teasing they'd all partaken in has been hard to come by the last few years, and it's so nice when it does happen. “And I meant exactly what I said.”
Prompto huffs, but it's without annoyance, really, because he's smiling. He feels Ignis' fingers move to the corner of his lips, sees him smile in return.