Summary: Prompto has his fears and concerns about the future, but Noctis knows exactly what to say to put him at ease.
(Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Established Relationship)

For Promptis Fanweek 2018, Day 7: Bed Sharing

Prompto woke up with a start, sucking in a gasp so sharp it made his chest hurt. His next few breaths were short and choppy as his brain continued to drag him out of his dream-state, his mind catching up with his eyes as they stared up at the ceiling, confirming that he wasn't where he'd thought he was. He gulped hard, and closed his eyes.

"Prompto?" Prompto nearly jumped out of his skin again at the sound of the voice, even though it was soft and gentle. He turned his head to the side, finding Noctis propped up on one elbow, his worried eyes staring deep into his own. Prompto blinked a few times, a sense of relief forming in his heart every time he opened his eyes and Noctis was still there ahead of him—scruffy beard and all.

"You okay?" Noct murmured, and Prompto realized Noct's hand was already on his shoulder when his fingers gave it a gentle squeeze. Prompto let out a trembling, breathy chuckle. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bad dream." Noct might have been convinced he was okay if his blue eyes weren't shimmering that way, or if his chin wasn't trembling so hard.

"Hey, come here," Noctis whispered, as he moved in to pull Prompto into his arms. One hand wove around his waist while the other curled into his hair, pulling Prompto's head in against his chest. He pressed a few kisses to blond hair before resting his chin atop it. He could still feel Prompto trembling from his nightmare, his body tense and his skin clammy. As his hand travelled into the small of the man's back, he discovered that even his shirt was damp with sweat. Noct wished he'd awoken sooner to the sound of his whimpers, so that he may have prevented this.

He listened closely to the sound of Prompto's breathing, waiting until it slowed until he even debated speaking again. He stroked his hair gently, and eventually felt Prompto's hand slip up between them, curling into the fabric of his dark t-shirt.

"You want to talk about it?" Noct tried, gently. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what Prompto's mind had conjured up this time. He had been through so much tragedy—from being bullied as a kid, to being captured and tortured, to watching good hunters and glaives die around him as they fought together; he was sure Prompto had had horrid dreams about all of these at some point in his life.

"I just... I dreamt that I lost you again," Prompto said, barely above a whisper, and Noctis swallowed hard; he hadn't wanted to even consider that a possibility. He pulled Prompto a little closer, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his hair this time. Lost you again. Again. That word felt like a knife to the gut to Noctis.

So many times they had lost each other—on the train all those years ago when Noctis had mistakenly almost pushed Prompto to his death, then when the crystal had pulled Noctis in and held him captive for ten years. And finally, he had come back, just in time for Prompto to learn that Noct had always been destined to sacrifice himself in order to bring the light back to Lucis. Prompto had been devastated, and had thought he'd lost his beloved Noctis one last time when he'd entered the throne room after the battle with Ardyn, expecting to find a corpse. Instead, he'd found Noct standing in the middle of the room, taking in the sunlight with peacefully closed eyes, and he'd learned that for once, the Astrals had been kind enough not to take Noctis away from him.

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere this time," Noctis promised. Prompto pulled back a little, just enough so that their eyes could meet. When they did, Prompto's were still teary.

"You shouldn't tempt fate like that," he said, almost pleadingly. He didn't like to think about it, but so many things could happen that were out of their control. Even if he didn't need to maintain the wall, or use the ring of the Lucii anymore, Noctis' body could still succumb to illness or disease. He could still die in some freak accident, or by the hand of someone who wasn't too pleased with his return to the throne. The Astrals had granted him his wish to rule his kingdom; it wasn't likely that they would do anything else for him. They certainly wouldn't go out of their way to protect him.

"And you shouldn't worry so much," Noct cooed, letting his hand trail from Prompto's hair down to his jaw, cupping gently. He brushed his thumb over Prompto's worn and tired face, and felt Prompto continue to come down from the terror of his dreams the longer their eyes remained locked.

"I"m sorry," Prompto eventually murmured, and Noct quirked a curious brow.

"'The hell are you sorry for?" he chuckled softly.

"Life has just been so good this year, sometimes my brain just freaks out, and tries to convince me that this isn't real. And I'm so scared that someday I'll wake up, and it won't be real. I'm terrified that you won't be here, and I'm terrified of losing this life we have together," Prompto admitted, glancing around at the royal chambers—the King's chambers. It wasn't the high ceilings, or the expensive, red velvet furniture that made him love living here; it was the fact that he could lie here in this giant bed with Noctis, and know that it was okay, that he deserved to be here because Noctis had really, truly chosen him to rule by his side. They were married, they were in love—which was something Noct never would have had with Luna—and they had made Lucis proud to have them as rulers.

"You're scared that because things are so good, bad things are going to happen?" Noct asked. Prompto lowered his head, slightly embarrassed.

"Yes," he whispered. "But it sounds dumb when you put it that way."

"This has been an amazing year, hasn't it?" Noct smirked, ignoring Prompto's last comment, and for the first time since he'd awoken, Prompto gave a tinysmile back. Ignis and Gladio had done such a good job of pulling together a beautiful wedding for them, and the citizens had been so happy. The Citadel was almost completely fixed up now, thanks to the help of so many people, and there had been a lot of glaives offering their service to him—glaives that Prompto had fought alongside in Lestallum. Life in Lucis was almost normal again; it would take time, but they were getting there.

"Listen, Prompto, I know there are no guarantees that things are going to always be this good, or this peaceful. And I won't pretend that I'm not a little scared, too, sometimes," Noct said, still stroking Prompto's face. Prompto stared at him with big, blue eyes, the worry in them lessening as curiosity took over.

"But I can guarantee that I will love you every second I'm breathing, and long after that, too. You're never going to be without me," Noct promised, and this vow, Prompto felt he could believe. He smiled tenderly, and clutched the fabric of Noct's shirt a little tighter, pulling him in, and legs laced together under the sheets. He gave a contented hum before speaking again, looking up at Noctis with a gentle calmness in his eyes now.

"My king," he quietly sang, his voice light—almost weak with emotion—as his free hand tangled into the back of Noctis' hair. He immediately leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that was firm and passionate, full of silent devotion to one another. The motions of their lips, the way their hands stroked and clutched at each other—they knew in those actions that Noctis' promise worked both ways, that they would love each other until their last breath and continue in whatever afterlife lay before them after that. That was the only guarantee Prompto really needed, to know that things would always be okay.