[Prompto's eager to take advantage of the unexpected show of fondness and grab on, rubbing his nose deep into Ignis's shirt, filling his lungs big and then breathing out again.]
I've got an idea, maybe.
[Because it's got to be kin to the relief, to the pride Prompto felt when Ignis, smelling of swamp and sweat and flame, finally stood up to Gladio. When the three of them came to save him, just like he knew they would. When they were all right again. A unit.
He might be overplaying--he still feels half-sick with worry and guilt--but the strength with which Prompto clings to Ignis is as real as anything in the world.]
But you're right. Probably I can't even dream of it. You guys always blow away my wildest expectations, even after all these years.
[It's somewhere in the little things about the way they cling together — the way Prompto leans in to inhale him the way a starving man leans into a bowl of hot stew, and the brush of the tip of his nose against his shirt, and the way he just sort of fits up against him — that something sturdy in Ignis seems to shake loose, a fastening or two rattling free and coming undone, rendering his control imperfect and his collectedness fractured. It's not gone completely; no, the pieces are still there, still forming a reasonably admirable guard, but there are holes in it now, little breaches with jagged edges, and before he quite realizes it he's ducking his chin to press his face against the top of Prompto's head, burying a single, shaky breath in his hair.]
I was so worried about you.
[Prompto thinks he's different. Prompto doesn't think he's as important. Prompto thinks he's expendable, the extra piece, the odd man out.
Ignis doesn't live for Prompto's smile the way that he does for Noct's. He's just acutely, painfully aware of how much darker the world is without it.]
A brief moment of sentimentality. You won't tell, will you...?
[Oh no. His eyes sting suddenly with emotion he can't put a name to, something that goes straight from his ears to his center without registering at the desk. I was so worried, and it's not even that Ignis is saying it to him. It's that Ignis is saying it at all. It's that Ignis, unbowable Ignis, sounds a little shaken up there above his head. Prompto pictures a tree straightening itself out after an unexpected, cold-season storm and finding a couple leaves gone--nothing serious, but it could've been. It's like he needs this hug, too.
Prompto gulps the lump in his throat halfway down and manages--and he hopes Ignis reads the little shiver in his voice as laughter, aren't they all such disasters when it comes to this stuff?--to croak out:]
Yeah. You know it. Your secret's safe with me. ...I'll be back home before you know it.
[And, no different than when it was Noctis, he's got to let him go and see to it. It's a bit funny, really; just because he unfailingly objects to the "Mama Ignis" jokes doesn't mean they aren't well-founded in actual reality.]
[And hold him, perhaps, a little longer still, before eventually loosening his grip just enough that it's a suggestion of freeing Prompto to go if he likes, an invitation he's welcome to take but not pressed to.]
[And whether he means that as a response to the bit about thinking ahead, or the unspoken reason for Prompto's gratitude, is anyone's guess. Perhaps it's both.
Either way, he hugs back just as tight, before releasing him and giving him a little push toward the door.]
Now go on, then. You've errands to run before dinner.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 05:30 pm (UTC)I've got an idea, maybe.
[Because it's got to be kin to the relief, to the pride Prompto felt when Ignis, smelling of swamp and sweat and flame, finally stood up to Gladio. When the three of them came to save him, just like he knew they would. When they were all right again. A unit.
He might be overplaying--he still feels half-sick with worry and guilt--but the strength with which Prompto clings to Ignis is as real as anything in the world.]
But you're right. Probably I can't even dream of it. You guys always blow away my wildest expectations, even after all these years.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 08:40 pm (UTC)I was so worried about you.
[Prompto thinks he's different. Prompto doesn't think he's as important. Prompto thinks he's expendable, the extra piece, the odd man out.
Ignis doesn't live for Prompto's smile the way that he does for Noct's. He's just acutely, painfully aware of how much darker the world is without it.]
A brief moment of sentimentality. You won't tell, will you...?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 10:53 pm (UTC)[Oh no. His eyes sting suddenly with emotion he can't put a name to, something that goes straight from his ears to his center without registering at the desk. I was so worried, and it's not even that Ignis is saying it to him. It's that Ignis is saying it at all. It's that Ignis, unbowable Ignis, sounds a little shaken up there above his head. Prompto pictures a tree straightening itself out after an unexpected, cold-season storm and finding a couple leaves gone--nothing serious, but it could've been. It's like he needs this hug, too.
Prompto gulps the lump in his throat halfway down and manages--and he hopes Ignis reads the little shiver in his voice as laughter, aren't they all such disasters when it comes to this stuff?--to croak out:]
Yeah. You know it. Your secret's safe with me. ...I'll be back home before you know it.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 10:17 pm (UTC)[And, no different than when it was Noctis, he's got to let him go and see to it. It's a bit funny, really; just because he unfailingly objects to the "Mama Ignis" jokes doesn't mean they aren't well-founded in actual reality.]
Try to be home before dark, will you?
[...Case in point.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-22 03:21 pm (UTC)[Even here, where there are no daemons to go bump in the night, somehow, they still do.
Prompto doesn't really want to let go himself.]
Don't start dinner without me. I'll help out, okay?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-22 04:13 pm (UTC)[And hold him, perhaps, a little longer still, before eventually loosening his grip just enough that it's a suggestion of freeing Prompto to go if he likes, an invitation he's welcome to take but not pressed to.]
I was thinking we'd have a favorite of Noct's.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-22 04:19 pm (UTC)[But he leans back with a big grin to show he's joking.]
Nah, that sounds good. I've got a lot to make up to him. What're we making?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-22 11:58 pm (UTC)[He reaches up, lightly ruffling Prompto's hair in the back.]
I'll make a little extra, while I'm at it. Enough for a guest or two, if an extra mouth to feed should happen to turn up at the table.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-24 09:36 pm (UTC)[Or maybe thinking in his head, since Prompto's relieved, grateful smile says that's exactly what he was hoping for.
Not just his smile, either. Bending beneath Ignis's hand, he burrows into him once more, hugs him tight.]
Thank you, Iggy.
[Thank you for being here.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-24 10:24 pm (UTC)[And whether he means that as a response to the bit about thinking ahead, or the unspoken reason for Prompto's gratitude, is anyone's guess. Perhaps it's both.
Either way, he hugs back just as tight, before releasing him and giving him a little push toward the door.]
Now go on, then. You've errands to run before dinner.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-25 03:13 am (UTC)[He shakes his head, because that was something that happened with Noct, not Ignis, and salutes on his way out.]
Off I go, got potatoes to bring home! Later!