#ofscientia

slides in two years later - brace yourself, bro. Here come the feels !! Okay seriously though, let’s see what I can throw your way.

During the world of ruin, Prompto learns how to make coffee. He’s never paid much attention to it before, never really been interested in it himself - but Ebony is hard to come by when the world is ending so he teaches himself how to brew something similar. He’s never sure if its actually good or if Ignis just lies to him, but, dude. He tries.

He’s not good at asking for affection, especially in the beginning of their relationship. He doesn’t want to seem too clingy or needy or accidentally do something that turns Ignis off of the whole idea of them being together. After a while he puts two and two together and notices that the older man will often put his arm around him while he falls asleep, so sometimes Prom may or may not pretend to be asleep, just in order to get what he’s too afraid to ask for. (Hey. No judging. We’ve all been there.)

Prompto’s favorite thing is to sneak pictures of Iggy’s profile when it’s framed by the sunset (sometimes sunrise, but he’s rarely ever up for those). He keeps them and sometimes during the ten years when noct is gone, he loses himself in them. Wondering where it went wrong, what he could have done to help ignis keep his sight. Ignis always seems to sense when he’s in such a place, and before he’s aware, Prompto will suddenly feel fingers scratching at his scalp.

In the beginning they try to keep things a bit on the down low for obvious reasons (judgement, ridicule, awkwardness … the usual) so they come up with code words and phrases that sound like one thing but really mean hey. dude. I’m thinking about you. Prompto’s favorite thing to use is the chocobo song. I mean, fool proof plan, right? Nobody will see it coming!

Prompto often gets ahead of himself, whether in conversation or battle or thought process or what have you - but Ignis is always there to ground him, to pull him back from wherever he is and remind him (with something as simple as a touch) to focus.

Prompto often finds any excuse to hang out with Ignis, even before they become ‘a thing’. Hanging out by the older man while he cooks, volunteering for shopping trips, begging him to play king’s knight - the list of occurrences is endless.

Sometimes he takes a bit more liberty with his safety than might be wise, especially during a fight where they’re not totally doomed. Think like: Grulla, spiracorn, dualhorn … stuff like that. Those things that can be dangerous - but aren’t going to take your head off in just the shortest moment of distraction like a behemoth or couerl. Totally scary, dude. But anyways - back to the lack of safety thing. Ignis gets .. well.. Ignisy .. when such a thing happens, and Prompto finds it brings out a warmth in him that settles somewhere in his stomach. Iggy being authoritative? Yeah. That’s hot, bro.

Prompto keeps a few pictures of himself from ‘before’ and he guards them furiously. But he does, eventually, open up to Ignis about them. After some persuasion he eventually finds the guts to show him and Ignis smooths away his insecurities by listing not the flaws that prompto sees, but the beauty that he sees.

He doubts their relationship will continue once Noct is married and they make their way back to insomnia. He’s pretty sure there’s no place in Ignis’s life for a guy like him - but he keeps such thoughts buried to the back of his mind. No use ruining what time they do have and he’s afraid to remind the older man of such facts before forced circumstances do. Ignis usually can sense there is something wrong, but he never quite manages to pry the words out of him.

He grows a goatee once, once. And Ignis feels it with his fingers and like nope, nada, see ya. And Prompto laughs and looks at himself in the mirror and is like “yeah, okay, it’s pretty bad.” And its the last you ever see of that horrible facial hair. its not even a goatee in the game its a fucking - i digress. i digress.

“Ignis, hey.” Nyx had only seen the prince’s advisor a handful of times in the past - and only one of those instances was fruitful. The prince’s friends were to be trained by Crownsguard (which made little sense, considering the Glaives saw far more action than the Guard could ever hope to see --), but Nyx had made it a point to show Ignis a thing or two when the young man had spare time.

Turned out, he was just as hard to get ahold of as the prince himself.

“Where’s His Highness?” a logical question, really. In the few times Nyx had seen Ignis, Noctis was typically in his presence. “If you’ve got some time, I have a few new moves I could show ya. I know you’re busy and all, but...”

“ Whatcha cookin’? ” She sprung forward with her hands clasped behind her back, leaning over the table to get a better look at the ingredients Ignis had spread out. Some prepared, others waiting for their turn. She enjoyed cooking, though not nearly as much as she did tinkering with her technology and machinery. She appreciated how similar her hobby was to the intricacies that lay with crafting a recipe. “ Smells good already! You pick these yerself? Hammerhead’s got a lot out there, but I bet yer able t’ pick up more, what with yer travelin’. ”

Aw, yeah!

Satisfied with another win and with cheeks flushed the palest shade of pink, Prompto scoots closer, covering Ignis’s hands with his own. “It’s just King’s Knight, see? Its easy...” Thumb guides thumb through a particularly tricky maneuver, teeth raking across a chapped bottom lip as cornflower gaze stays focused on the screen in front of them. “ - there!” The beast on the screen falls to a wave of triumphant music and he turns to the other with a smile, light from the television reflecting in an amused gaze as lips part in a grin. “ - told you that you could do it.”

Somewhere around them demons roam the darkness - their faint bellows more than enough evidence that despite the way it seems … they are indeed still out there. The runes around their campsite shine bright, light seemingly reflected back all the more by the campfire thats long since smoldered to nothing but ashes. 

The words whispered against his ear cause Prompto to snort, one palm moving to press flat against the older man’s chest even as pale cheeks flush pink in the moonlight. “Dude.” The word is whispered, punctuated by a slight push against Ignis’s form as he takes the smallest of steps backwards. Ears stay attuned to the sound of snores coming from the tent lest their companions wake up and intrude on what can only be describe as an intimate moment.

He’s standing in the tiny closet that serves as their bathroom, knuckles white where dirt encrusted fingernails grip at the edge of the sink, clinging onto the cold porcelain as if it’s the only thing there left to ground him. The cold water from the leaky faucet (I’ll fix it, Iggy, I promise. There’s just never any time) fills the room with a sound that seems far too loud, and cornflower eyes watch with detached interest as the water swirls around an empty basin before falling uselessly down an empty drain. In the dark, everything looks dirty … covered in the shadows of filth that now plague everywhere he turns. It would be easy to flip on the light, to prove to himself that not everything is so damned, but he’s resolved long before now to learn how to live in the dark.

Instead, Iggy does it for him… flipping the switch with a familiarity and confidence that makes it easy to pretend that those first few weeks of fumbling and searching had never happened… and Prompto sighs, blinking against the dim glow that suddenly seems far too bright. His reflection in the mirror looks back at him with tired eyes, now haunted where once they had shone with laughter and life. The line of his profile is sharper, more man than boy, and he wonders what his partner thinks about it, wonders what images are conjured up while he traces the edge of the gunman’s cheekbones in the dark.

“Bad news, dude. I think my freckles might be fading.” The comment is meant as a joke, a light way of skirting the older man’s comment until he’s decided how to respond … but there’s a hint of sadness underneath. Over the years, they’ve had to say goodbye to so many things … and Prompto has watched with a sort of horrid fascination as the boy that Ignis has fallen in love with transformed into something he deemed unrecognizable. Would you still be here? If you could see me? The other man makes a sound that could either be disappointment at this newest revelation or irritated frustration at the way his words are so carefully avoided, and the blonde gives a short nod in answer though he knows it’s impossible for Ignis to see. He wants to turn the faucet off and walk out of the room as if nothing had happened, as if all that was left as a souvenir of his last hunt were aching muscles and temporary bruises… but the tears he’d fought against so gallantly have left a lingering trail in the grime, a searing brand of salt and water.

All those people ….

For a split second he feels a stab of jealousy over Ignis’ scarred eyes, an aching bitterness at the thought of his being spared rhetorical sight of empty buildings and the monsters that swirl around abandoned belongings and the shreds of clothing… but it’s chased by an overwhelming regret that sits like lead in the pit of his stomach and he fights the urge to apologize for thoughts better left unspoken. Instead, he takes a shaky breath, ribs groaning at the way air filled lungs press against them, and finds himself proud of the way his voice barely shakes when he speaks.

“I think that last bit is getting harder and harder, yeah?” The truth is a terrible confession. It falls between them like a boulder, heavy and dull, and Prompto finds that he immediately wants to take it back, wants to explain that he doesn’t mean their bodies pressed together in the dark isn’t something worth fighting for, doesn’t mean that the sound of the other man’s voice isn’t what keeps his heart beating. He moves to the doorway, unmindful of the sweat and dust that still covers his clothing, remnants of that new darkness that no amount of amber light can banish, and rests his head against his lover’s shoulder, forehead pressed the stalwart warmth that keeps him going. If anyone asks, he’d say he’s fighting for Noct, for hope…but the stark reality is that he’s fighting for the sound of his Iggy’s breathing, the timbre of his voice that soothes restless thought like a balm to the gunman’s soul while they lie together, legs tangled together in the dark . He’s fighting because of that deep conviction that a world without the ability to love Ignis Scientia isn’t a world worth living in, a world he won’t readily acquiesce to.

“Yeah, well...” This is definitely not where he had planned to end up, half bared fingers buried in the leaves strewn over damp soil and freckled cheeks tinged a color that resembles a lucian tomato way more than his normal sunburn excuse. “Starting to regret that extra pep in my step, dude.” He winces as he moves to stand, black boots scuffing the earth and cornflower gaze decidedly landing anywhere other than on the other man’s expression - he’s watching though, Iggy is always watching .. and Prompto can feel the half smirk tugging at the corner of his friend’s mouth just as clearly as if he could see it. 

Watch me show my royal wedding moves? More like watch me fall on my face.

Gloved palms brush at the grass that clings to black denim, shoulders releasing their tension in a sigh. “When we get there...uh, to Altissia I mean... do you really think they’re gonna be expecting me to impress lords and ladies? You and the big guy, sure...but...Look at me bro!” He does meet Ignis’ expression then, cornflower blues earnest and vulnerable in a way that the older man always seems to coax out of him. There’s silence for a beat or two, followed by a dawning wave of horror that he, Prompto Argentum, is asking Ignis Scientia, roadtrip tactician extraordinaire, to patch some lingering self confidence wound.

Astrals. Gotta think fast, prompto !

“What?” The question is deflected with a laugh, mirth falling with ease from dry lips as the gunmen throws his head back. Fingers hold tighter against the camera in their grasp, tongue pressing to the inside of one cheek as he feigns interest in some subject across the nearby plain - anything is better than looking at Ignis. “What would I be jealous of, dude?” 

Prompto finally lowers the camera, head cocking to the side as blonde tendrils fall into cornflower blue eyes - gaze searching the older man’s face. Was he joking? Was he prodding because he knew? Astrals .. did everone know?

Come on, Come on. Keep it together Prompto.

Their dance is still new, full of steps that he’s not even sure he knows the names of, let alone if he’s even allowed to maneuver around them - so teeth chew nervously at the inside of his cheek, eyes moving from the other man’s face as fingers once again raise the camera to his eyes. “All I’m sayin’ - “ Words are quiet but no less jovial, hesitance still lacing his voice as if afraid to admit such a thing, afraid to sound too weird. What if he comes across as a loser? What if hedrives Ignis away? “ - you just ... were getting, uh, really .. into.. your Ebony this morning that’s all.”