#duscaenorange

“Ignis?” Noct calls, nudging the door shut behind himself. Usually, Ignis can be found sitting at his kitchen table or curled up in his armchair, drinking coffee while he works through some reports. There’s no sign of him now, and the warm yellow light of the lamp by the armchair is missing. And there’s a curiously sharp smell in the air that he doesn’t quite recognize. He thinks he’s smelled it a couple of times at Prompto’s place or when he’s over at Gladio’s house and Iris is around.

“I’m here!” Ignis calls, voice strained, from across the apartment.

Noct drops his bag to the floor, holding his hand out immediately in anticipation of some sort of blade. He hasn’t decided if it’ll be a dagger or sword yet. “Specs?” he asks quietly. “You good?”

“Apologies, Noct, but-”

“But what?” Noct slides his foot further along the hardwood of the apartment, heading towards the sound of Ignis’s voice. If there’s something or someone here, and Ignis of all people was caught off guard, what could he possibly do to stop that sort of person?

Ignis is silent for a moment, and then his voice sounds through the apartment with a faint echo. Bathroom, then. “You can’t be here now.”

“What’re you doing, though?” He clenches his fingers into a fist, deciding that a dagger would probably be best. He can throw those. He flips it in his hand, stepping closer to the bathroom.

No reply. Maybe a sigh?

“Specs?” he calls lowly, and his heart gives a lurch of fear. Not Specs, not Ignis, c’mon-

He throws open the door and leaps through the doorway, knife poised at the ready.

Ignis stares back at him, wide-eyed, from the bathtub.

Noct banishes the dagger immediately. “Uh.”

“Noct!” Ignis exclaims, cheeks turning scarlet. He’s not even wearing his glasses; his hair lies flat against his forehead like it used to, now a little darker from the steam in the air. “I didn’t think you’d be arriving for some time, Noct, so-”

“I got let out of the meeting early. My dad shut a lot of the council’s suggestions down,” Noct says dumbly instead of getting the fuck out of the bathroom. He should leave. He should leave. He should really leave.

He pauses for a moment, considering all the things Ignis might have been doing in his absence, and he flushes. “I can leave if you’re, y’know. Uh. Busy.” They’re not at that point in their relationship yet, really. He really shouldn’t be here.

Ignis goes even brighter red, eyes widening. “Nothing like that!” he protests immediately. “No, Noct, I wasn’t-”

“I should go,” Noct mutters, and he scrambles for the door handle, about to show himself out of Ignis’s apartment and hide in his own bed for about fifteen years.

“Noct, wait!” Ignis reaches out towards Noct, almost as if he’s about to leap out of the bathtub and chase him down, but he seems to realize what he’s doing, and where he is, and his arm just ends up hanging at the edge of the tub, fingers splayed desperately along the enamel.

Fingers with purple fingernails.

Noctis stares.

Oh, gods.

“Are you painting your nails?”

The smell makes sense now, of course. Holy shit.

“I’m also taking a bath, but…” Ignis trails off, biting thoughtfully at his lip. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion and makes direct, unwavering eye contact with Noct. “Yes. I am painting my nails.”

Noct blinks. “Oh.”

Ignis’s fingernails tap out a restless rhythm on the edge of the tub. Noct can’t stop staring at them. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell you this, Noct.”

“It’s not a big deal.” It’s a big deal.

“To me, it might be,” Ignis argues softly.

Noct winces. He’s said the wrong thing again. Okay. Course correction. Empathy. Conversation. He asks, “Is this why you always wear gloves?”

Ignis looks down; his long eyelashes cast shadows along his cheekbones. “Part of the reason,” he admits. “Or perhaps the gloves just became convenient when I started doing this.” He huffs out a little breathy laugh, startlingly loud in the echoing silence of the bathroom. Maybe the echo makes it resonate all the more in some part of Noct’s chest that he can’t quite name. “It’s embarrassing, really.”

“Nah.” Noct against the doorjamb of the bathroom. “I don’t know why you’re embarrassed about this.”

“It’s improper, Noct.”

“It’s your body.” Noct shrugs. “Who cares what you’ve got on? You’re still doing the job in the same way. The best way,” he adds, and he can’t help the blush that rises back to his cheeks at the words. Gods, is he really complimenting Ignis right after barging in on him in the bath?

Fuck, Ignis is naked right now, isn’t he?

They haven’t gotten too far yet. This is still new territory for both of them, and Noct’s afraid that anything going wrong here could jeopardize everything that they are to each other.

Ignis doesn’t seem to have any such qualms. He lifts his hand - gods, look at those nails - and makes a vague wave over to him. “You can come over here, you know.”

Noct raises an eyebrow and hopes that the expression masks how much his heart begins racing. “You’re sure?”

Ignis blinks at him slowly, tilting his head to the side to study Noctis. His eyes look darker green than usual, or maybe that’s just the lighting. “I’m sure,” he says. “You’ve already gotten this far.”

Noct almost wishes that there had been an intruder. It would be easier than this. It would be easier than a lot of things that have to do with Ignis, and Ignis in the bath, and Ignis in the bath with his nails painted. It would be easier than being faced with every godsdamned reason why he finally decided to ask Ignis if they could start dating. He can already see half his fantasies playing out like a movie behind his eyes, reminding him of every way that he wants Ignis, and more.

The soft rug beside the tub is a welcome feeling beneath his knees, because by the gods, he drops like a rock beside Ignis.

Ignis smiles at him, radiant and soft. “Welcome home,” he murmurs, and that’s no fucking help.

Noctis returns the grin, hoping that he’s not too red in the face. “Good to be home.” That’s good. Good answer. In control.

But up close, he can smell whatever soap it is that is undeniably Ignis. The scent of it reminds him of just how wonderful it is to bury his face in the crook of Ignis’s neck and experience every bit of him, and that’s not helping at all. Thankfully - thankfully? - the shower curtain is drawn enough that it obscures the view of anything too far down in the tub, and the bathwater itself is thick with suds and color. And Ignis. He’s there too. In the bath. Next to Noct.

Gods, he’s in way over his head.

To distract himself, he reaches for the hand that’s still resting on the edge of the bathtub, lifting it up carefully. Ignis lets him without a word of protest, so Noct takes the opportunity to really look at the varnish up close. It’s pleasantly iridescent up close, subtle and elegant while still retaining an air of beauty. Dark purple - wine, coeurl print, the spines of some of Ignis’s favorite books - fits him well. On Ignis, on his fingers, this is dangerous. Noct has always loved Ignis’s hands, capable and deft and deadly.

“I like the color,” Noct tells him. And then, before he can stop himself, he blurts, “You always look good in purple.”

The corners of Ignis’s mouth lift up in a tiny, pleased smile. “Thank you, Noct. I’m glad you think so.”

“Maybe…” He’s pushing his luck, but he’s already here, and he might as well. “Maybe you could try black next time?”

Ignis chuckles. “A bit unsubtle, don’t you think?”

“Well.” Noct lifts the hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles there. He raises his eyes to meet Ignis’s gaze, unblinking. “It’s my color.”

“Do I look good in black too?” Ignis teases.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?”

“I believe I’m owed a few, after the scare you gave me.”

“Okay. Yeah. Valid. Don’t tell anyone I did that.”

“It’s endearing. Very valiant.”

“Don’t call me valiant.”

“As my prince commands,” Ignis teases, and Noct can’t help but smile. Ignis tugs his hand out of Noct’s grip, studying him quietly for a moment. “I was planning on making something with rice tonight,” he muses. “And after that…you could stay, if you’d like.”

“Stay?”

One of Ignis’s legs shifts in the water, sending ripples of water up to lap at Ignis’s chest. Noct swallows. He’s not going to look. He’s not going to look.

Fuck.

Ignis smiles. “I’d certainly welcome your company.”

Noct breathes out through his nose, controlling himself as much as he can manage. “Will you keep the gloves off?”

Another smile, pleased and soft. “If you’d like. Certainly.”

“One more question, Specs.”

“Better hurry. The bathwater won’t stay warm forever.”

Noct grins. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Ignis breathes, and he reaches out to catch Noct at the back of his neck, digging his fingers into the soft skin there as he pulls him close. Noct shivers; he can almost imagine that he can feel the layer of polish there, and he leans in to close the distance between them.