"Noct, can you get the stockpot out and bring it over here?" Ignis called. He was busily chopping shallots.

"Sure." Noct thumbed the keyfob for the Regalia to pop the trunk before making his way to where she was parked. He had retrieved the big stockpot and was halfway back to Ignis' impromptu kitchen when the now-familiar twinge snapped through his head. It did not stay a mere twinge for long; he was soon doubled over, blind and deaf to the world while agony constricted around his skull like a vice and strange, distorted visions danced through his mind. Impressions of heat and immense pressure and Someone calling out to him…

"Noct!" A hand gripped his elbow as Ignis caught the Prince before he collapsed entirely. The pain began to fade then, as if chased away by Ignis' concern. But he was still shaking and dizzy, and his vision still wavered, so Ignis helped him over to a chair by the fire.

"Has it passed?" asked Ignis. He stayed close to the chair where Noct had slumped forward, elbows on his knees and head hanging.

Noct straightened up tentatively. "I think–" As soon as the words crossed his lips, another bolt of pain shot through him. In reaching out to grab his head, his hands encountered something solid and he clutched it as if to anchor himself from the visions and the pain.

When Noct's vision cleared and he lifted his face, he realized that what he'd grabbed had been Ignis. There was nothing but concern in the advisor's face and voice, however, when Ignis said, "Keep your head down, for now. That will help."

"It's over now," Noct said, though he tensed in preparation for another episode. One did not come. Instead, he heard the familiar click of a camera shutter.

"Nice shot," Gladio commented to Prompto. A grin wreathed his features, one echoed by the gunman who was in the act of lowering his camera.

"Prompto!" Ignis' face was florid with embarrassment as he snatched back a pace from Noct, pulling himself free of the Prince's grip about his hips.

"I'm keeping this one forever," Prompto told Gladiolus smugly. "It's going in the blackmail folder."

Noct surged out of the camp chair and lunged at Prompto. "Delete it! Right now!"

Prompto dodged behind Gladio with a taunting laugh, and when Gladio sidestepped out of the warpath, fled toward the Regalia. Noct gave chase, swearing, "I'm gonna kill you!"

Chuckling, Gladio stooped to pick up the stockpot, then brought it over to the makeshift kitchen. Ignis had retreated there and resumed chopping his shallots. "What was that about?" Gladio asked.

"Another headache." Ignis swept the chopped shallots into the stockpot without looking at Gladiolus.

Gladio looked over his shoulder to where Noct was still stalking Prompto. "Seems fine now. Still the same deal?"

"Didn't get the chance to ask, though I suspect the answer will be yes."

"Didn't ask? Too caught up in the moment?" Gladio elbowed him suggestively.

"Gladio!" Ignis shoved him right back, face once more aflame. Gladiolus laughed uproariously.

There was a yelp from nearby. Noct had finally caught Prompto, tackling the gunman to the ground to wrest the camera from him. Prompto wailed disconsolately, "Noooo! Gladio, do something before he deletes all the good blackmail material!"

"Heya, Noct," called Gladio, "You sure are havin' a lot of fun tonight. First Iggy, now Prompto? When's it gonna be my turn?"

The Prince's Shield laughed again as he dodged the fist-sized stone Noct threw at his head. "Aw, don't be like that. Unless you're tryin' to tell me you're into the rough stuff?"

Ignis buried his face in his hands, muttering, "Remind me why I'm friends with you, again…"

"Somebody's gotta get that stick outta your – oh, shit," Gladio cut himself off mid-sentence to block the fist Noct threw toward his face.

"Gentlemen, if you would like a proper meal tonight, then keep the roughhousing away from here," Ignis said with dignity.

"Okay, Mom," Gladio retorted. He looked back toward Noctis and asked, in a more serious tone, "Head doing okay now?"

"Uh…" Noct rubbed the side of his head. "Yeah."

"Could you make anything out?"

The Prince shrugged. "Not really. I just… got the feeling that I was being called out to."

"By who?" inquired Prompto, who approached the group cradling his camera.

"Dunno."

"We'll find out sooner or later. So, what are you makin' for dinner, Iggy?" Gladio tried to lean over Ignis' shoulder, but only received an elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

"Nothing, if you don't leave me alone to make it! Go sit down, all of you."

"Fiiiiine."

AN: a friend on another site requested a fic based around one of Prompto's well-timed photos. it turned out a lot less gay than originally intended, but here you go. a smol drabble.