Spoilers: Chapter 9, Callings

Disclaimer: Don't own Final Fantasy XV


The door handle clicked. There were footsteps, then the clinking of crockery and cutlery, then the soft snap of the door closing.

More footsteps, approaching him, then a nearer clink, and a soft thump opposite him.

"I brought lunch."

Prompto. His voice was dulled.

Ignis took a deep breath, letting the new smell fill his nostrils.

"Soup."

One second.

"Yeah. I made it. Well, I heated it up."

"I'm sure it will be to my satisfaction."

Ignis sat forward, reaching for the bowl, but his fingers gripped nothing but air.

Hands wrapped around his wrists, guiding him to the bowl and spoon. They didn't let go until the bowl was in Ignis' lap.

There were two sets of clinking and two sets of slurping: the only sounds while they ate.

"That's the last mouthful," Prompto said after a time. Ignis inclined his head in acknowledgement and sipped up the last of his soup. As soon as he returned the spoon into the bowl, it was taken from him. There was a quiet clink, and another soft thump.

Three seconds.

"Has Noct awoken yet?"

Two seconds.

"No. That fight with Leviathan really knocked it out of him. The doctor says he might not wake for days."

Ignis' jaw clenched.

Two seconds.

"You're worried about him."

"Of course. Do you mean to say that you are not?"

"That's not what I said," Prompto sighed. "It's just… I'm worried about you."

Ignis felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "I will be fine." He lowered his chin.

"'Will be' is not now. I'm interested in now."

Two seconds.

Ignis lifted his head.

"What about you? Gladio mentioned you too had sustained injuries."

One second.

"Superficial at most. A lot went down while I was on the hovercraft. I missed pretty much all the real action."

Two seconds.

"Where is Gladiolus?"

One second.

"I think he's gone for a run. He's not here, at least."

Ignis nodded. "And the doctor?"

"With Noct, as always."

Three seconds.

"I…"

Two seconds.

"What is it?"

Two seconds.

"I… do not wish to lay any burden upon you."

Ignis' hands curled around the end of the arms of his armchair.

A creak.

"Dude, there's no such thing. Tell me."

Three seconds.

"I know Gladio believes that I will recover. I do not share his optimism. I have made my peace with this."

Two seconds.

"I do, however, have one concern."

One second.

"What's that?"

Three seconds.

Ignis sighed. He sat back in his armchair.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

Three seconds.

"I… worry."

"About Noct? Yeah, we're all worried."

Ignis winced. "You misunderstand me."

One second.

"Iggy, you're gonna have to help me out here. I don't know what you're talking about."

Ignis pursed his lips. He dropped his chin onto his chest. His shoulders tensed.

"Why do you take photographs?"

Two seconds.

"To document stuff. So I don't forget it."

Prompto sounded confused.

"And why photos? Would not keeping a diary suffice?"

"Well, I guess, but it takes longer and you don't get to revisit what it looked like… Oh."

Two seconds.

"Indeed."

Five seconds.

A creak. Footsteps. Jingling crockery. A thud to his left. A long, dull scrape.

A soft breath brushed Ignis' face. Prompto took Ignis' hands in his own, bringing them off of the chair arms and turning them over.

"So commit me to memory."

Two seconds.

Prompto lifted Ignis' right hand and guided it upwards. Ignis kept his palm open, and it soon connected with a smooth and warm expanse of flesh.

Ignis moved his thumb across a horizontal bone. Prompto's breath was flowing over the inside of his wrist, making the skin there itch.

Ignis moved his hand upwards, and Prompto's hand dropped from his wrist.

Prompto's eyelashes fluttered lightly against Ignis' palm he reached up into his hair. Ignis carded his hand through his hair twice before moving on.

He could hear Prompto's breath – slow, almost panting – as he made his way down, brushing his middle finger over Prompto's nose and his thumb over his parted lips.

Prompto said nothing as he brought his hand lower, brushing the tips of his fingers across his chin and down the side of his neck. The texture beneath his hands changed, but he continued downwards, bringing his hand down Prompto's clothed chest until he reached the hem of his shirt.

"Hmm…"

Ignis stilled his hand on Prompto's thigh.

"Is this okay?"

One second.

"Always."

Ignis moved his hand back up, this time slipping beneath Prompto's shirt. The skin beneath his palm rippled with each shuddering breath. When Ignis' hand reached Prompto's third rib, a hand rested gently on his elbow.

Two seconds.

Fingers brushed against Ignis' cheek. A thumb ran over his cheekbone, just underneath the rough patch of skin by his eye.

"Does it hurt?" Prompto's voice was soft.

One second.

"Not anymore."

Ignis lifted his free hand, feeling for the wrist attached to the hand on his own face. When he found it, he wrapped his hand around it, feeling the flesh and bone within his grip.

One second.

"Can I kiss you?"

One second.

"Yes."

Something soft and warm brushed against the end of his nose, then slid down the side of his nose. Lips touched his.

Seven seconds.

Prompto away, but rested his forehead against Ignis'.

"You won't forget me. You won't forget any of us."

Ignis' lips quirked, but then dipped into a frown.

"Only time will tell."