Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Author Notes: Let me have my soft spot for this ship.

Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight

It's three o'clock in the morning and Regis knows that he should have sent him away, told him to go home, but he can't. It's the way his hair spills across the pillow, the constellation of freckles across his nose and down the slope of his neck. It's how his arms, strong and young, full of vibrancy and life, curl around Regis's waist. It's also in his soft breath again Regis's shoulder blade.

"Dear heart," Regis says to fluttering lashes.

"Hmmm... yeah?" there's a scratchiness to his voice, something that makes Regis swallow back his request. His blue eyes under pale blonde lashes reminds Regis of sunshine on a cloudless day. "Don't... don't tell me to go. Please?"

Regis sits up against the bed frame, adjusting Prompto's head against his chest. "I... No." Prompto lets out a sigh. "Have... have I ever told you about when I was younger?"

Prompto shakes his head. "No... not really."

Regis nods. "You may not believe me, but when I your age I was quite the accomplished singer."

This makes Prompto smile. "I can believe it. Sometimes... you sing in the shower. Or when you think I'm sleeping..."

Regis allows his fingers to gently track across Prompto's cheeks. His skin is so soft and pink, full of youthfulness and vibrancy. It's not fair to Prompto to have a lover thirty years his senior. He is young enough to be Regis's own son, and yet... There's the pull of his smile and hows soft his lips are as they press against Regis's chest. He reaches up and lets his fingers gently comb against the chest hair tinted silver.

"Ah, I wasn't aware."

But Prompto only smiles wider. "Wasn't complaining. I like it. I like it a lot."

Regis smiles. "You do?"

Prompto lets his eyes close as he adjusts his head against Regis. "Yeah. A lot-a lot."

"Would you like me to sing something for you?"

Prompto is at the junction between awake and asleep, where the heart begins to slow and breath relaxes. He nods his head ever so softly, wrapping his arm tighter around Regis.

For this moment, Regis holds Prompto closer. He isn't king, and Prompto isn't his consort. He isn't an old man, and Prompto isn't young. He isn't Noctis's father, and Prompto isn't Noctis's best friend.

They are simply lovers locked in an embrace as Regis croons a soft, sweet melody into Prompto's blonde hair.

"I hate to leave you, I really must say..."

Regis sings until Prompto is asleep, until there is nothing but peace and warmth between them. He presses his lips against Prompto's crown of blonde hair—so much more beautiful than the crown of metal and blood and death he wore atop his own head.

He wishes he can stay like this forever, but he knows that in the morning he will wake and still be king and Prompto will still be the university student who is best friends with his son. No matter the songs, the love, the feelings—in the light of the sun, Regis can never call Prompto his.

But in the moonlight, in their bed, entwined in their arms—they can be.

"Goodnight sweetheart, goodnight."

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