A/N: Okay, I spent all the time I was supposed to be getting work done today writing this, instead, because it's Noct and Rei's birthday and I felt like I should post something for them.

Following the AU piece I posted last I got several requests for more stuff along the same vein. This doesn't quite answer any of the specific prompts but eh. AU Fluff. Also, wolfmizu reminded me that Mors should probably still be alive...

Summary: (AU: no war/no prophecy/no starscourge/etc) In which Ignis is a nervous wreck, Noct and Rei are classic siblings, and Regis finds out he doesn't ACTUALLY want Reina to have a boyfriend.

30th of August, 753 ME:

Everything was very nearly prepared.

Ignis had picked up the seafood fresh that morning. It had taken him the better part of the month—most of it vacillation—to decide on a menu, but now it was settled and there was no going back. Reina would like it. Probably. Even if she didn't, it would be too late by then because—while he would have been perfectly willing to go back to the store and try again—something told him she wouldn't be willing to wait the extra hours that entailed.

No, it would be fine.

The only concern—really—was whether or not his cooking could hold a candle to that of the professional chefs employed in the Citadel. How was he meant to impress a princess with his culinary prowess when every meal she ate was a masterpiece in and of itself?

But if he thought about that all day he would go mad. It would just have to do. It would be fine. Really. Completely fine.

Except his hands were a little less steady and the cut on those tangerines was messy so he would have to do another batch and Gods he hoped his nerves calmed before he filleted the salmon because if that came out uneven there was no going back. Why had no one warned him that cooking while nervous was a terrible idea? Why had he not known that? Probably because when he was in front of the stove an inexplicable inner calm settled over him.

Usually.

He made the coulis, because he could do that even if he couldn't hold a knife straight. His eyes jumped toward the clock every other second and somehow minutes passed in between.

Everything was going to be fine.

It was all going to end in disaster.

Yes. Well. If he knew that now then there would be no surprise when it happened and therefore, arguably, that was fine. 'Fine' was really subjective, anyway. Who went about defining these words for other people? 'Fine' could be the candles knocking over and a carefully-crafted homemade birthday dinner turning into a fiery inferno if he said so, because at least then she wouldn't notice that his cooking was sub-par, and that was fine with him.

The steady march of the minute hand around the face of the clock did nothing to settle his nerves. Nor had the cup of chamomile or the can of ebony, which—in hindsight—had probably been a very bad idea because when had caffeine ever been good for anxiety?

The cauliflower was chopped, the greens washed, the salmon filleted, the coulis strained, the cake batter mixed, and the table set. He could have spent another two hours pacing back and forth in the kitchen and finding more spots that he hadn't cleaned and—Gods had that picture frame always been crooked?—but time was up. If he didn't leave now he would be late to pick her up and that would be a disaster.

Even so, he stood in front of the mirror, ran the lint roller over his vest and trousers, and ran his fingers through his hair until it sat just so for several minutes. Too many minutes.

He was absolutely going to be late.

Tradition dictated that every August 30th, Regis set aside everything that was demanding his attention in the kingdom and spent the day thinking only about the two most important people in his life. Tradition was an excellent excuse to stop working once a year. As things were going, soon he wouldn't have to take a day off to see his daughter, at least, when she always worked alongside him. But Noctis had moved out of the Citadel the previous year and was not sitting in on council meetings increasingly often now that he had graduated. Unlike Reina.

Regardless, it was nice to spend a lazy morning enjoying a late breakfast before trekking out to the lake for a day of fishing. For Noct. For Regis and Reina, that mostly entailed actually conversing about subjects unrelated to politics and learning much more than they had ever known they needed to know about fish.

It was… comfortable.

Noctis filled every ice chest they had brought with fish. Reina—looking suitably summery in her sundress—teased Regis about wearing a suit to the lake (what else was he going to wear? Perhaps he had once owned other clothes, but if they were still about, somewhere, he had no doubt that they had long since ceased to fit, as he was now old and out of shape. To which Reina had given him a 'you aren't fooling anyone, Father' look and proven her point by trying to kick him and looking smug when he caught her ankle reflexively. And then complaining that he now held her ankle).

But when the afternoon wore on and Noctis had filled up every last inch of space for his haul of fish, they did—albeit reluctantly—pack up and make the walk back to the Citadel.

"And now, my dearest ones, how shall we spend the evening?" Regis climbed the steps, the luckiest man in Lucis, with his twins on either side of him. "I believe we still have an hour before dinner is served, but I daresay—if you are amenable—your grandfather would love to see both of you."

"I just want to play Legend of Lucis," Noctis said.

"Is it a—ah, what is the phrase?—multiplayer game?" Regis asked.

Noct looked up at him, both surprised and amused. "You gonna join me, Pops?"

"Sometimes even an old dog must learn new tricks. Will you teach me?"

Noctis laughed. "Oh, you are going down, old man."

"As much as I would like to witness that, I must remind you that I do have dinner plans." Reina stopped walking on the first landing.

"What?" Regis stopped mid-step and turned to look at her.

She gave him a long-suffering look. "I told you, Father. Ignis is making me dinner."

And, indeed, there was young Ignis, pulling his car up to the bottom of the stairs as they spoke.

Noctis groaned. "Specs, you're ruining my birthday!" He shouted as soon as Ignis had the door open.

"You're only jealous because Luna lives too far away to make you a birthday dinner." Reina elbowed him in the ribs and danced away before he could get her back.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe I'll just invite her out here next year so I don't have to spend my birthday with you."

"Absolutely not," Regis said. "I forbid it. No one is allowed to not spend their birthday with me."

"You're ruining my threats, Dad!" Noctis glared at him, then back at Reina. "Well, fine. Then Luna and I will spend it with Dad, because I'm the good twin and you can go off and have dinner with Specs."

Reina sighed in exasperation. "I told you this weeks go."

"I thought you only said that to get me back for kicking Ignis out of the Citadel after I found the pair of you—"

"Dad!"

"Well did you or didn't you?"

"Both! This is your comeuppance and also I just want to have dinner with Ignis on my birthday!"

"I still intend to remove the door from your bedroom." Regis crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm eighteen."

"You are n—"

Oh. Yes. She was, wasn't she?

Hellfire and damnation.

"I will do it anyway."

Reina made sound of frustration, threw her hands up in the air, and turned around to descend the steps. "Let's go, Ignis. Father is being insufferable."

Below, Ignis scrambled to open the door for her.

Regis' mind shouted at him to stop her. Maybe she was eighteen, but she was still his little girl and damn it, he could demand she spend her birthday with him, regardless.

...except it really did sound horrible that way, didn't it?

"What am I to tell your grandfather?!" Regis called after her.

"Tell Grandpa Mors that I love him more than I love you and that if he's still awake when I get home I will beat him at chess." She dropped into Ignis' car.

Regis was not telling his father that Reina loved him more.

It wasn't true, anyway.

She was just mad at him.

"Ignis, you will have my daughter home by nine or I will have your head. And behave yourself."

"I'm eighteen!" Reina shouted out the open window. "Ignore him, Ignis. He's not going to do anything."

Ignis hesitated, looking between the two of them before giving Regis a hasty bow and ducking into the car himself.

Regis made a sound of annoyance, watching them drive off. And that was a perfect evening ruined. A few months ago he might have said Ignis was a decent enough chap. Except that was before he had fully registered what it meant for Reina to have a boyfriend.

What it did mean was less time for her to spend with Regis—and now he realized it meant fewer important days together, as well. He wasn't used to having to share her with another man.

He didn't like it an inch.

"Welp." Noctis shoved his hands in his pockets. "Want to go crash their date?"

Regis sighed. "I promised I would not follow her, anymore."

He watched the car until it disappeared and then stared down the road, hoping it would come back. It didn't. And the longer he considered that, the more he realized he was only pushing her away by trying to hold her back. But what was a father to do when his only daughter was growing up and spending time with a handsome young man, and his first impulse was to hold on tighter because what if she got hurt. Yet, if he didn't let her walk her own path and fall on her own then she was only going to resent him.

"Come on, Pops." Noctis nudged him. "Let's go play Legend of Lucis with Grandpa."

Against his better judgement he turned his back and let her go. He climbed the rest of the steps with just one of his precious twins still at his side.

If, at any point during their still-new relationship or the months before that Ignis spent contemplating it, he had thought the hardest part would not be King Regis he had been terribly mistaken.

Every other man in the world could safely follow the instructions of his girlfriend over those of her father and fear very little retribution (save some likely discomfort during the next family dinner). But Ignis had the unique honor of being stuck between his girlfriend… and the King of Lucis.

The upside was that, by the time they reached his apartment, he had absolutely forgotten about any nervousness he had regarding dinner and whether or not Reina would enjoy what he had prepared. He was a little more concerned about being executed for treason. No matter how many times Reina told him that King Regis wasn't actually going to follow through on his threats, Ignis came back to that look of pure animosity on His Majesty's face when he told Ignis to behave himself.

He was going to get beheaded.

At least his final meal would be good.

Hopefully.

"I do hope Noctis' afternoon exploits have not put you off seafood." Ignis held the door open for her, painfully aware—as he was each and every time she came over—that he lived in a cheap one-bedroom apartment and that no amount of cleaning would change the fact that the plaster in the bathroom had been cracked for months.

"Quite the contrary. I think I must be conditioned to have fish on my birthday. Noctis would throw a fit if we didn't eat his catch for dinner." Reina stepped in before him and, somehow, didn't seem put-off by the general state of his living quarters. Not that she ever had been, before, but he was still always relieved.

Ignis followed her in and took a few minutes hurrying about (had he really left that dirty spoon in the sink when he left? What had he been thinking?) to start dinner and light the tealights on the table while Reina made herself comfortable, sitting on a barstool on the far side of the island. Yes, he had anticipated the fact that he would be cooking with an audience. No, it had not quite registered exactly how unnerving that was going to be. Or how distracting.

"May I remark, Reina, how lovely you look?" He brushed her back as he passed behind her and stopped when she caught his hand.

She leaned back to lookup at him. "You may."

"You look singularly beautiful in that dress." So accustomed was he to seeing her in austere colors that it was almost a shock to see her in a white dress spotted with little yellow flowers. Aaand—

"Not that you don't always look beautiful!" Ignis added hastily.

—two months and he couldn't get through a single evening without a blunder.

Reina only laughed. She leaned back farther and requested a kiss, which he gave without hesitation.

"I know what you meant," she said.

Thank the Gods for understanding girlfriends.

In spite of every intention Ignis had to remain tense with nerves through the entire dinner… he didn't. Though his hands had been shaking while he worked at pre-preparation, thinking of all the ways this could possibly go south, now that he had her sitting across the island from him with her elbows on the countertop and her chin on her hands, he was at ease. Something about the way she smiled. It made him believe that even if he did everything wrong and dinner turned out terrible… they would still have an enjoyable night just by being.

But he didn't ruin her birthday dinner.

The scallops turned out moist and perfectly browned, the salmon was tender, the cauliflower puree perfectly seasoned, and when he turned each individual lava cake out of its ramekin they remained intact long enough to be sprinkled with confectioners sugar, garnished with fresh raspberries and mint leaves, and topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. And the first bite revealed a molten chocolate center.

Ignis was too distracted to even feel relieved. Something about the sidelong glances and coy smiles she was shooting him.

He left the dishes piled in the sink and sat with her on the sofa, where she tucked up against his chest with one of his arms around her shoulders and her head tilted back to look at him. Among other things.

It was a lovely end to a lovely evening, sitting in his (immaculately clean) living room tangled up with Reina—lips locked and hands exploring.

It might have been perfect. If he hadn't remembered what King Regis had said.

Something told him that—whatever this might have been called—His Majesty would not consider it 'behaving himself.' Not when he had been so incensed upon finding the two of them merely kissing—albeit with less-than-modest enthusiasm—in the Citadel a few weeks back.

Ignis broke the kiss abruptly and looked at his watch. How was it nine thirty already?!

"What is it?" Reina stilled, palms pressed to Ignis' bare chest. Beneath her hands his pulse quickened—and not from excitement.

"Your father is going to kill me."

Reina looked at his watch and tsked. "He will not."

Something on his face must have shown disbelief, because she sighed and the mild annoyance faded into resignation. "Though I may kill him."

"Reina, I—"

She pressed her finger over his lips to halt the excuse. "I know. He's still the king and, while I might have the audacity to ignore his instructions, it does put you in an awkward position. You're a saint for putting up with him. If you drop me off at the steps you won't have to face him and I'll talk him down from whatever daft punishment he has already dreamed up."

Sorry though he may have been, Ignis was more relieved that he didn't have to face down both the king and his own girlfriend for the chance to keep his head attached to his neck. Perhaps she would be angry with her father when they returned—in fact, he knew she would—but he was thankful not to be standing in the middle of that.

So they shared a last, lingering kiss before detangling and heading for the car.

Noctis succeeded in distracting Regis for at least an hour—though he was doubtless ill-tempered dinner company. With his father they were three for dinner, but Regis' eyes kept finding that empty chair that should have held Reina and every time they did he couldn't help but wonder why she didn't want to spend her birthday with her father, anymore.

After dessert they returned to the TV lounge—where Noctis had installed some sort of gaming system years before—and passed a few more hours while he tried to teach two old veterans how to fight inside a tiny box. It only worked for so long before Regis started watching the clock.

Nine o'clock came and went.

Regis stopped pretending to play Noctis' game and let his own father have that honor to himself. He paced the room. A few minutes he could have forgiven—various innocent things might have caused that—but this was far too many minutes. Reina had told Ignis to ignore him. Would she really stretch this just to antagonize him? And if she was—or even if she wasn't—exactly what were they doing with that extra time? Dinner didn't take three hours.

Or four.

"Stop pacing," his father snapped. "My legs hurt just watching you. Reina's a big girl; she'll be fine."

"That is precisely what I am worried about," Regis said.

"You fret like an old maid!"

"You are not allowed an opinion until you have a daughter!"

"Bit late for that, my boy."

"Precisely."

His father shook his head and went back to Noctis' game, giving Regis up as a lost cause.

It was ten by the time she returned. By then, Regis had already imagined dozens of unsavory possibilities. Of course she was old enough to make her own decisions but Gods damn it he wasn't ready for her to!

The lounge door cracked open, throwing a stream of hall light across the darkened room. Regis stopped pacing. His father and Noctis both glanced up from their game.

"Reina—" Regis took a step forward; she still looked much the same as she had the last time he had seen her—right down to the fact that she was still annoyed with him—but was it his imagination or was her hair a little more messy, her dress a little more wrinkled?

"Thank the Gods," Noctis said. "He hasn't shut up about you for hours."

That wasn't true. Regis had hardly said a word about her. Granted, it was doubtless perfectly clear where his mind was, but he hadn't said anything unless prompted.

He didn't take another step because she was still looking at him like she wanted to hit him and probably he deserved it but he would almost have preferred her angry so long as she was home. Almost.

Reina had opened the door with every intention of chewing Father out. If he wasn't always trying to intimidate Ignis, if he would just act like a normal father and let her forget—for once in her life—that she was the princess, then everything would have been fine. But he had to go all hostile and overprotective whenever Ignis was near. It was infuriating.

But he said her name in that choked, relieved tone and he just looked at her like he had honestly been afraid for her and everything else drained away. She didn't even hear whatever snide remark Noct made.

How could she be mad at him when he looked like that? However much she wanted to be, because he had interrupted her night with Ignis, she couldn't.

She sighed and stepped all the way into the room, closing the door behind her. Then she went and threw her arms around her father's neck. It took a moment before he hugged her back, as if he wasn't yet convinced that he was allowed to.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Father."

But would it really have killed him to show that he loved her like a normal person instead of taking it out on Ignis?

His arms tightened around her. He didn't say anything. Eventually she pulled away—though he didn't want to let her. She dragged him over to the couch and sat him down. Then (it took a moment to convince him to let go of her hand) she went to give her grandfather a hug and a kiss.

"Hello, Grandpa."

"Happy birthday, Star-bright. I'll be waiting on that game you promised me! But go sit with my great lump of a son so he'll stop whining, first." He jerked his head toward the couch, hardly taking his eyes off the screen. Next thing he would be hooked on Noct's games.

Reina laughed. "I will."

She pulled her sandals off and threw them at Noctis because that was how one said 'hello' to a brother. The first one his his shoulder, but he dodged the second.

"I will kill you."

"Love you, too." She went back to drop onto the couch, wedging herself between her father and the corner and throwing her legs over his lap.

He held onto her like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go.

Poor Father. Perhaps if Mother had still been alive she could have talked some sense into him, but Reina was—and had been for her entire life—the only woman in the Caelum family. That made it harder for him. For all of them, probably.

"Father." She snuggled up against his chest. "You don't have to put restrictions on me to get me to come back home. You are my father and I'll always love you—even when you're being insufferable. And just because I want to spend time with Ignis doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you and Noctis and Grandpa. But I spent all day with you."

His only response was to hold her tighter. Probably he already knew all that. Probably he had been telling himself the same thing all night. So she told him something he didn't know:

"And I didn't have sex with Ignis."

By the light from the TV she caught the flush on his face. "I did not—"

"No, but you were wondering!"

"Reina—"

She laughed and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Relax, dummy. I'm never going to grow out of having a father—or wanting a father. Just… tone it down a notch. I'll come home earlier if you're sweet instead of sour."

His lips twisted. "I will try."

He would. But she would still have to have this conversation with him ten more times before he started succeeding.

"And Reina…" He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Perhaps, next time, Ignis will join all of us, instead."

Or maybe she wouldn't.

Reina smiled. "I'd like that."

A/N: I am incapable of writing fluff without Reina/Regis cuteness and/or drama. It is not a thing I can do. I'm sorry (except not at all).

Also for some reason Mors is basically Cid in my head, except he looks like the old-school (Versus XIII era) design of Clarus (before he was named Clarus). So there's that. Probably more Mors to come because who doesn't love Regis getting talked down to by dad-Cid?!