#cornyx

“I don’t know, I just… I want to go out, you know?” Nyx replied with a small shrug, and Cor was absolutely not distracted by the stray beads of water still clinging to his skin while he stretched in a decidedly cat-like fashion and then folded his arms behind his head. “It just feels, I don’t know… All I do is either work or be home and… I don’t know. I used to go out with the guys, have a few drinks, and have fun, but we don’t really go out anymore, ‘cause the kids and everything. And yeah, work gets me out of Insomnia but I’d like to be out and about, and not be shot by Nilfy bastards, you know?” Nyx offered a small smile when Cor hummed in agreement. “So I reckoned, hey, Pelna’s got Prompto for the weekend, and I’m not allowed back in the office until Monday anyway, because owed timed off or some shit. Like the war cares! But you know. It’s just you and me and I figured, hey. You know what we haven’t done yet?” Nyx kicked Cor before he could answer, laughing as Cor grinned at him. “Shut it.”

“We can go out for dinner,” Cor said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “And just… walk around, I guess. See what’s new on main street or something.”

“That sounds nice,” Nyx said, because it did.

“Okay,” Cor said, and disappeared into the shower.

--

“So what’s the difference?” Nyx asked, fifteen minutes later, scrolling through his phone and waiting for Cor to finish getting ready to go out.

Prompto was staying with Pelna again, and the primary thing that stuck to Nyx was his current inability to reciprocate. He was game to look after the kids during the day, but there were… expectations, about night stays. It stuck Nyx as terribly unfair, but so was every other aspect of their life in Insomnia and making a fuss about it only made things worse. So he didn’t. He just found creative ways to get Pelna extra time off and said yes to anything Amira asked of him.

It was fine.

“Hmm?”

Cor leaned out the bathroom to look at him, razor in hand and half his face still to go.

“Between philharmonic and symphonic?” Nyx asked, because he didn’t know, and it was better than all the terrible things caught up in his throat as of late.

Cor blinked slowly.

“I have no idea.”

“There’s a concert tonight,” Nyx explained, when Cor failed to retreat back into the bathroom and finish his shave. “Saw it on the feed, and I realized I didn’t know the difference.”

Cor watched him the way he did sometimes, gauging, and Nyx thought of a bird of prey of sorts. Or a vulture. Like he was being scrutinized and picked apart, but it didn’t chafe, from Cor, because Cor only ever looked at him that way when he was trying to understand him, not looking for ways to point out he was lacking.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, after a moment, brows dipped slightly. “To the concert, I mean.”

The headline that had sparked the question was matched with an article that talked about a new violinist debuting in the orchestra, some famous or other noble’s new compositions being played and the fact everyone that mattered in polite society was bound to attend. Perhaps even the King himself, though they were ever so careful to not assert anything on that regard, so the Royal Household had probably not issued a notice about it.

Nyx didn’t say I don’t belong there, because he wasn’t anywhere near beaten up enough about it.

“It’s starts in an hour and it’s probably sold out already,” he said instead, because despite it all, Clarus’ lessons in diplomacy had stuck.

Cor frowned at him.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Because Cor could never, ever take a fucking hint and let it lie. Could never just look the other way and let things be.

Nyx reckoned that was why he loved the surly fucking bastard so much.

“Sure,” Nyx said, eyebrows arched, “why not.”

--

It turned out the difference between symphonic and philharmonic was purely the choice of the rich asshole whose pockets kept the orchestra in business.

Nyx found out because he searched the definition on his phone during the intermission. The King did not show for the fancy concert. He knew because Cor had, with the absolute audacity of a stone-cold bastard walked them into the Royal Family’s balcony seats. Nyx did not ask if they were allowed to do that. They brought them wine from a bottle Nyx forced himself not to really look at, because otherwise he ran the risk of later finding out how much it cost and being utterly mad at the fact they finished it without a second thought.

It was nice, was the thing. The wine and the music – such terribly Lucian music, tons of hymns about the Crystal and the sanctity of the Royal Bloodline – and the way Cor kept staring at him instead of the stage because, he admitted, with blunt, graceless honestly, he didn’t really care much for this kind of music, he just wanted to see if Nyx had a good time.

They walked out from a side door, utterly unnoticed even though they were very much not dressed for the occasion, at least not compared to the pomp and garish in the main lobby. No one looked at Nyx and stopped to ask why he was there. The wine was sweet but it stuck to him, and his bones were still rattling from the music.

It was all so very Lucian, but not… not the way it always was?

Like Cor.

Lucian, but not painful.

“That was fun,” Nyx said, sitting in a restaurant that seemed to have squeezed itself into reality between two towering skyscrapers, four blocks away from the concert hall. “We should do it again.”

“Good,” Cor said, deadpan, “it’d be awkward if I couldn’t score a second date.”

Nyx kissed him, for the audacity, but he supposed that only served as encouragement for the terrible creature.