A/N : Just some old FFXV fan-service I've had on my computer from between 2017 - 2020. Can't say why I had the urge to put it up here, but, well... Here it is. Total fan-service for myself, mind you, so don't take anything too seriously. I was never intending to publish it, so I sorta had a lot more fun with it than I would have had otherwise.

Cor x Ignis, lots of Titus because I love him. Not AU, but not perfectly canonical either. Take it for what it is; just something I did long ago for fun. My schtick is awkward teen Ignis falling in love with gruff older men, so expect a few more in this vein involving Titus and Ravus, because I can and I already did. Love you guys, as always. 3

LATE AND SOON

Chapter 1

Too Far Gone

"You've lost your mind."

That was the first thing Cor had said to Titus, when Titus told him his theory.

Cor had long since stopped taking Titus' 'theories' seriously, and merely rolled his eyes these days whenever the insufferable oaf tossed one out.

Astute Titus had plenty of brains, but this time he was, well...

To put it kindly, if Titus hadn't been one of Cor's very few companions, he woulda decapitated the bastard. Couldn't, sadly, despite how desperately he wanted to. Cor hated saying it, but he loved Titus, just a little bit, and liked him being alive.

Titus hadn't been there his entire life, not like Regis and Clarus and Cid and Weskham had, hadn't gone on youthful adventures with him, no, but in a way Titus was Cor's best friend, because Titus was who he most identified with. They were so similar, painfully so, even down to their appearances, and maybe it had been natural that they had drifted towards each other.

Two men who cared about work more than anything else, hard and stern and mostly humorless except when together, hard on themselves as well as others, single-minded and not so fun; they had been meant for each other, in a way. Titus was only two years older than Cor, still close enough to never feel too out of reach.

Titus was the only person that Cor could look at and feel as if he had an equal; a man who had started from the bottom and worked his way up to the top through his own tenacity and grit. Titus hadn't been born into privilege, neither had Cor, and their positions now reflected their dedication and determination.

Cor considered Titus his brother, perhaps, more than a friend.

It was no easy feat, to come to Insomnia as a young refugee and then make yourself Captain of the Kingsglaive, no more than it had been for a fifteen-year-old boy to march alone into a cavern and miraculously survive.

Titus and Cor had a connection in a way Cor had with scarcely any others, and that was why it had been Titus, of course, that Cor had first told of his inclinations.

The only person he had ever told, come to think. Hadn't exactly been a secret, and yet it had never seemed important enough to outright say to someone. No one's business but his own, and he was so obsessed with work that it didn't even matter in the end. Who would have cared that the Marshal wasn't straight, when the Marshal couldn't get his head out of the King's posterior long enough to really date? Never pertinent information for the world, yet Cor had cracked to Titus all the same.

But, damn—had his heart ever hammered that night. Would never forget it.

That anxiety.

Cor had been barely twenty-three, young and still fairly dumb.

Titus and Cor had been sitting together at the bar, as they often did, tipsy and comfortable, and Titus had always liked to tease Cor when he was drunk. No exception that night, and Cor had felt Titus' shoulder press into his own when Titus leaned in to whisper, mischievously, "Hey—that girl over there is trying to get your attention. Need a wingman?"

Cor had scoffed over his beer, and was quick to say, "I'm not interested."

Hadn't even looked up, as utterly and completely disinterested as he claimed, and was instead eyeing the taps for his next glass.

Titus had been quick to retort, "Not interested? You didn't even look! How do you know if you don't look?"

Titus' shoulder was still pressing into his own.

Ah, hell. He didn't know exactly why he did it then. Had never thought about it, had never wanted to tell anyone, had never been too interested in offering private information about himself to others.

Didn't know why he did it, but he did—he just stared away at the beer taps, and said, offhandedly, "Because I'm not interested in women. Thanks."

A long silence.

Titus had suddenly pulled back, just a bit, just enough so that their shoulders were no longer touching, and that was what had woken Cor up and started that anxiety. Fear, even, because Titus was remarkably important to him and he hated the thought of losing him because of something like that.

His heart had been pounding, hammering, so fast that he felt dizzy and it wasn't from the beer.

Had never been as close to anyone in his life as he was to Titus, and couldn't stand the thought of him drifting away. Titus filled a void that Clarus and Regis never could have.

That silence then was the longest of his life, the most absolutely deafening, as Cor kept his eyes straight ahead and waited for Titus' response.

Took a long time, and then at last, Titus finally just uttered, softly, "Oh."

Was about to keel over dead, he was sure of it. Couldn't bring himself to look at Titus then, and kept his gaze focused on his beer.

After another horrible silence, Titus finally scoffed, grabbed up his own beer, and said, in a much more comfortable voice, "Why didn't you ever just say so? I've been tryin' to set you up with the wrong people."

Cor snapped his eyes over to Titus, feeling breathless and awed, and stared away at him, speechless. Felt a little dazed then, honestly, as Titus carried on like nothing had happened.

But, oh, that relief—

No words.

Cor just sat there like an idiot, staring away at Titus, and Titus must have known how he was feeling then, because he set down his glass, reached out, punched Cor's shoulder gently, and added, teasingly, "Hey—just don't you go fallin' in love with me, alright? I'd have to break your heart, and I don't want that."

Oh, god.

Bolstered and jittery and anxious and elated and everything else, Cor just scoffed, punched Titus' shoulder in turn, and hissed, gruffly, "Don't worry about that. Makes me sick thinking about it. You're the farthest thing from my type."

And boy did he mean that. He and Titus were so similar, after all, that the thought of ever being romantic with him was quite stomach-churning. Like falling in love with yourself.

Titus feigned offense then, like a good friend, and shot back, "Please! I'm the best you'd ever get!"

"No, really, stop—I feel sick."

Titus punched his shoulder again.

"Asshole."

Just like that, they fell back into their typical routine, and carried on like nothing had ever happened, and Cor knew then that he would do anything for Titus, if only because Titus hadn't cared at all that Cor was into guys.

His friend.

Titus was never overly crass about it, was never too vocal, keeping Cor's secrets very fervently to himself, as Cor had entrusted him to, but Cor did notice after that that Titus paid very intense attention to him. No doubt because Titus really did like to play wingman, and was curious as to what Cor's type actually was.

Had to observe, really, because when Titus had finally asked, for the first time, 'So—what is your type?', Cor had just stood there like an idiot. Titus tried to spur him a bit by trying, 'We know it's not for remarkably handsome, chiseled men like myself. So...?'

Ugh.

A dumb, 'I dunno—I know it when I see it.'

Not helpful.

Titus had rolled his eyes then, but Cor noticed him watching every single movement with hyper vigilance afterwards. Watching Cor constantly, seeing where his gaze fell, what caught his eye, when he did a double-take, and by that point Titus probably knew more about Cor than Cor knew about himself.

Hell... What was his type? Wasn't so easy to explain, exactly. Didn't like men that were as big as himself, that was the easiest part. Liked someone smaller, shorter, someone that looked like they would fit well under his arm or under him in bed. Didn't like an overly loud personality. Didn't like them too muscular. Not too rugged. Titus had been right, after all; Cor's type was absolutely not 'handsome, chiseled men' like Titus.

Supposed, in the end, that he looked for men that were a bit more effeminate. Softer and gentler and fairer than he was. Not too soft, though, not too loud, not too flamboyant. Not too fun. Cor was a quiet person and liked peace quite a lot. Didn't want a bar-buddy; had Titus already. Didn't want a workout-buddy; had Titus, after all. Didn't want a mischievous string-puller; Titus was there for that. Didn't want a clinger; had...well. Titus, and all that.

And if Cor ever wanted to, gods forbid, have 'fun', then he'd go get shit-faced in a bar with Clarus and call it a day.

Not what he wanted in a partner.

Wanted someone classy and well put together, he supposed, but couldn't explain even to himself exactly what he found to be 'classy'.

Hard to ever really make tangible, those sentiments, and so Cor was never really able to point Titus in the right direction.

Titus sure did try, though, bless him.

For years and years after that, Titus would always choose seats at the bar with a goal in mind. Cor, for his part, just let Titus have his fun and played along, because Titus' company made him happy, even if his attempts to get Cor laid were usually way off.

Couldn't blame Titus too much—it must have been extremely difficult for a straight man to attempt to set up his gay friend when he didn't even know what kind of guys his friend actually liked. Tried his best.

Sometimes, he got lucky, but most of the time he didn't.

Honestly, Cor found more success with one-night-stands when he went out alone, because Titus missed the mark so often. In Titus' defense, Cor was exceptionally picky, choosy, and sometimes didn't make any sense at all. Titus could give him the exact same man on two different nights, and one night Cor would say yes and the other he would say no.

Didn't make sense, even to himself.

Cor was pretty content with his life, though, all things considered, and was so devoted to his job and position and the line of Lucis that his perpetual solitude didn't bother him much. Was too busy for a relationship, it seemed, was too obsessed with work to ever give himself to a real partner, and so life carried on that way without too much thought.

One day he was twenty-four, and then a few days later it seemed he was twenty-eight.

Titus came up to Cor that day, and said, offhandedly, "Hear that Scientia's nephew was just anointed future Hand of the King? The King just swore him to Noctis this morning. Already in charge of him, from what I hear."

Cor had scoffed, and said in turn, "The four-year-old?"

Titus gave a laugh, and merely teased, "I always like for my small, defenseless child to be guarded by another small, defenseless child. They work best in packs, or so I've heard. Like piranha."

Cor laughed, too, and didn't think much of it.

Suddenly he was thirty-five, and one day that little future Hand of the King had caught his attention.

Ignis Scientia. The nephew of the smartest man in the Citadel, if not the meekest. He had just turned eleven, and Cor had only noticed him that day because Cor had been tailing behind Regis, and Regis had made a detour through the royal kitchen. Cor had been mindlessly walking, not much thought involved, and he didn't exactly know what caught his eye then, didn't know why he turned his head.

Just glancing a little kid there, maybe, in the middle of those bustling chefs.

Turned his eyes, just a bit, and saw Ignis there, popped up on his toes next to a chef and watching in fascination as he cooked.

In passing, Cor could hear Ignis asking a million questions, and nearly snorted. Forgot sometimes that Ignis was as brilliant as his uncle, and so young. That Tenebraean accent had always caught Cor's ears, because he liked it, and he watched Ignis very intently until they had left the kitchen and Ignis was out of his sight.

Just because it was so...

Odd.

Ignis had always been a little odd, yeah, but it was intriguing all the same to see him in the kitchens trying to learn how to cook. The Hand of the King, playing chef for a day. Wondered suddenly exactly what Regis had intended for Ignis' role to be, because Hand of the King sounded well and good, but from what Cor had seen so far Ignis seemed more like 'mother of the king'.

He had seen Ignis combing Noctis' hair and patching up his clothes, and now he was learning to cook.

Hm.

In his mind, Cor wondered if Ignis was really meant to be more like a housewife. Every little thing Regis did had ulterior motives based in the predictions shown him by the gods and Oracles, and Cor wondered if Ignis didn't have some other purpose.

A future betrothal?

Certainly something worth thinking about, because it was becoming very apparent to everyone in the Citadel that Ignis was an extremely domestic sort of person. Had never met anyone that took to that role so well. As if Ignis had been born only to serve others.

Once, Cor passed and saw Ignis tending to Gladiolus' cuts and bruises that he had obtained in a fight, chastising him a bit as he did so, and Cor was fascinated not only by Ignis' motions but by how sheepish Gladio looked as Ignis chided him. Gladio treated Ignis the same as he did Iris, and Cor could tell that, in Gladio's eyes, he really just had two little sisters, both worthy of protection.

Cor understood, because Ignis elicited that kind of response from more masculine males, as much as a woman did. Wasn't intentional, no, but there all the same. It was already very obvious that Ignis was feminine, even so young, at least in personality. Ignis had those traits and notions, and even in the way he walked and moved, so gracefully, it was apparent that Ignis was quite Gladiolus' opposite. It was natural for a man to see him as just one more damsel to protect, and Gladio shoved Ignis behind him as quickly as he did Iris.

No one meant anything malicious by it; just instinct, Cor supposed.

Ignis was so caring—everyone just wanted to protect him.

Titus had put it best, perhaps, when he had uttered one day, 'Ignis is going to end up being some councilman's wife.'

Cor, ever pondering Regis' motives, tossed out, 'Or Noctis'.'

Titus made a noise of thoughtful interest.

Meanwhile, Cor was aware of the gossip around the Citadel about Ignis, and found it quite to his annoyance. People who had been born into royalty, into the court, into the aristocracy, chatting bitterly about how the title-less nephew of a Tenebraean immigrant had so randomly become Hand of the King. Ruffled many feathers, Ignis, and Cor hated that because it wasn't fair.

Ignis had had no choice in anything, had never once been given options, had never had the freedom to make his own decisions.

More than that, it seemed everyone enjoyed nitpicking every little thing Ignis did, and Ignis cooking and cleaning and sewing Noctis' clothes had become a bit of a joke amongst the more traditional members of the council. Cor clamped his jaw shut when they mocked Ignis, and was grateful above all else that on the odd occasion Regis overheard something he very quickly put a stop to it.

Wondered, sometimes, if those same people gossiped about Cor like that when he wasn't there. Wondered if more than Titus knew about him, because it had never exactly been an intentional secret and surely one of Cor's past lovers might have said something to someone and started a rumor. It didn't bother him, didn't care, but was curious if it would have been only Ignis that received ire because Ignis was on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Ah—

Didn't matter, in the end.

Regis was the one in charge, and as long as Regis was there, so too would Ignis be.

Time carried on.

And then, one day out of the blue, Cor had been minding his own business and had gone up the Citadel steps on his way to the Crownsguard office. Hadn't made it far when someone had turned the corner and literally ran directly into him, so hard that there was a grunt of pain and Cor had staggered. Instinctively he reached out, grabbing the person who had run into him by the arms to keep them from falling down the steps, and it was as if lightning had struck him.

Had never seen the person in his life, and yet had known him for years.

Ignis.

Cor had gripped him there, staring into his eyes with what could very well have been awe, and it was as if someone had bashed him over the head with a rock.

Ignis? Really?

Ignis, alright, because he suddenly bowed his head, deeply, and said, "Marshal! Forgive me, I apologize, I should not have been running on the stairs. I was hoping to catch Noct—he forgot one of his schoolbooks."

"He's already gone," Cor said, feeling dazed and confused and a little dreamy.

Damn—what the hell had happened?

Cor was so struck still then, because he didn't recognize Ignis. Didn't know that face, that body, that voice. Didn't know this young man before him, because the Ignis he knew was a gangly little kid, awkward and homely and fourteen, with glasses that were too big and scrawny arms.

Fourteen, alright, and yet suddenly Ignis wasn't a little kid.

Could look at him then, and see him for what he was—a teenager.

Ignis stared up at him, and Cor realized that Ignis came up to his collar suddenly, not his elbow. He glanced down, quickly, and could see that Ignis' legs had shot up seemingly overnight, were exceptionally long now, contributing to his newfound height, and Cor glimpsed the pale stubble glinting on Ignis' cheeks. His Adam's apple, very prominent suddenly. His facial features had sharpened, aligned, and Ignis wasn't homely anymore, not by a long shot.

Honestly, Cor was struck so still then because Ignis was beautiful.

Green eyes, lit up in the morning sunlight. Had never met anyone with green eyes.

Astounding.

Well... Ignis had always had green eyes, hadn't he? Had known it, always, and yet, in some way, Cor had never seen it, had never really noticed.

Ignis spoke again then, murmuring, "Drat. I shall have to find a way to deliver it to him."

Cor was still holding Ignis' arms within his hands, hypnotized as he was, and the sound of Ignis' new voice was extremely enthralling. Had gotten so deep, his voice, so smooth and warm and rumbling, and Cor was as entranced by that as that new face. A beautiful voice for a beautiful person. Ignis' accent worked in full force suddenly, mashing so well with the new pitch of his voice.

Damn.

All he could really seem to think.

It was such a remarkable transformation that, really, what else could anyone think except 'damn'?

Cor snapped back into reality, released Ignis' arms, and finally managed to say, dumbly, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure they have a spare. He'll be fine, for one day."

"I...suppose."

Eyeing Ignis' legs without realizing it, Cor heard himself utter, "Shouldn't you be in class, as well?"

Ignis bowed his head, as respectful as ever, and said, "His Majesty has moved me into the Citadel classes, that I may keep a better eye on Noct."

Annoyance.

Sometimes, Cor thought that Regis was taking things too far with Ignis. Ignis was a kid, was not royalty, and hadn't had much of a choice in this matter. Didn't seem fair that he had to give up his childhood so that Noctis would have a smoother one.

Ignis stood there, staring at him, and Cor stared right back like an idiot because he didn't know what else to do. Couldn't exactly pinpoint Ignis' expression, and was too blinded by his newfound appearance to really think too much about it.

Finally, after eternity, Cor inhaled, regained his focus, and said, gently, "Get to class, then, Ignis. The Prince will be fine. Take care of yourself, as well, no?"

Another hard stare, and then Ignis bowed yet again, murmuring, "Yes, sir," and then at last he sidestepped Cor and went down the stairs. Cor followed him with his eyes until Ignis was out of sight, and felt a bit of a jolt when, at the very last second, Ignis glanced back at him from over his shoulder.

Startled, Cor looked quickly away and jogged up the stairs.

Amazing.

Who could have ever seen that coming?

Cor spent the rest of the day half-focused, trying to imagine what Ignis would look like at thirty if this witchcraft was just a one year span.

Daydreaming away.

After that, Cor found himself running into Ignis very frequently, and he realized that it was because he had subconsciously rearranged his routine so that he would tread the same paths as Ignis at the same time. Couldn't put his finger on why Ignis was suddenly so fascinating to him. Why he drew Cor's eye so intensely. Why he was constantly on Cor's mind.

Absolutely astounding, the transformation.

The ugly duckling had not become a swan—had become a more like a siren. Honest to the gods, Ignis had gone from being absolutely invisible to the most breathtakingly gorgeous thing Cor had ever seen.

Felt like Ignis had cast some sort of spell over him.

A phoenix.

Ignis was fourteen, and Cor wasn't so blinded by him that he failed to realize how inappropriate his staring was. Cor was thirty-seven. Almost thirty-eight. Quite inappropriate indeed, an exceptionally sharp moral edge that he found himself walking, and yet in spite of that knowledge he just couldn't take his eyes away.

No harm in looking, right?

Could look all he wanted.

...yeah, sure, but thinking about Ignis constantly and wondering where he was and with whom? Maybe not so right. Wasn't right at all, knew it, but couldn't seem to help it. Made so much harder by Ignis, because Ignis was so smart, so mature, acted so much older than he was. It wasn't so easy to look at Ignis and remember that he was only fourteen, because he moved and spoke and conducted himself like a man. Acted like he was twenty-five and so it was easy to see him that way, and when Cor thought about it like that it didn't seem so outrageous.

Ignis' legs were miles long, and Cor often looked them up and down when they crossed paths.

Didn't mean to—every move he made those days was purely subconscious. He wasn't aware of his actions. Just let his eyes fall where they would.

Titus had asked him, so many years ago, what his type was. He had never been able to answer, but damn, if Titus ever asked him again all Cor would have to do was point at Ignis.

Had never in his life been so instantly and furiously attracted to someone.

He had always known that he was attracted to more effeminate males than he, sure, but had never once met someone quite like Ignis so he had never really had a clear road map.

Ignis was incredibly unique, so of course Cor had never met anyone like him. Ignis was brilliant, calm and collected, poised, dignified. Had always been very quiet, very studious, very serious. Ignis was even rather dull, boring, because he was so unwaveringly devoted, but Cor had always liked that about him. Brains aside, Ignis was as sweet and gentle as could be, much like his uncle. Respectful, obedient, hard-working. Never caused a stir, and always did what others told him. Was always polite and kind. Never seemed to experience negative emotions, and if he did then he was very adept at hiding it.

Mentally and emotionally, Ignis was an exceptional human being.

Physically, Cor could say Ignis was perfect, at least in his eyes, and Cor's eyes of course were the only ones that mattered.

Didn't often to refer to men he noticed as beautiful or pretty, because those weren't terms he ever really associated with men, effeminate or not, but he could safely look at Ignis and say he was beautiful. Had never seen anyone so beautiful, never, and felt that, just this once, that term was appropriate. Ignis' eyes alone were enough to entrance, but adding onto them that sharp nose, those high cheeks, that square jaw—Ignis was certainly a sight to behold. Ignis' lips were rather heart-shaped, and Cor only knew that because he had often found himself tracing them with his gaze.

Those legs, however, were what would be the end of Cor.

Could tell already, because he couldn't stop staring at them.

Goddamn things.

Cor was in trouble, alright, because looks aside Ignis had every other thing a man might have wanted. The total package, one could say. Docile, pretty, sweet, neat and tidy and an exceptional cook, mothering, caring, smart, loyal, dutiful. Ignis was essentially the perfect housewife, absolutely perfect, and Cor was very painfully aware of that.

Cor had never wanted a steady relationship in his entire life, and yet suddenly he was looking at a man that he realized would look so at home in his world. He was seeing someone that he was actually thinking about on a regular basis, and for the first time he began to consider the possibility that having a partner was actually desirable.

Ignis was a housewife, and for it was turning Cor into a pining suitor.

A little fantasy life of being married and in love seemed appealing out of nowhere.

Stupid, yes, exceptionally, but also exceptionally powerful.

Cor wasn't an Immortal; he was just a man.

He woke up in the morning, and looked over to his empty side and wished, more than anything, that he could have seen Ignis' face there in the bed next to him.

It was a problem, but a controllable one, because Cor was able to just watch from afar and fantasize and leave it there. Was able to wrangle those emotions and wants, to shove them down, because Ignis was still at a safe distance.

That little household dream was suppressed for the most part.

Just a fantasy. Everyone had one impossible one, and Ignis was his.

It would never be acted upon.

By him, at least. It became apparent to Cor shortly after that he wasn't the only one that had noticed Ignis' transformation.

Titus came up to Cor one afternoon, saddling up to him for lunch, and had leaned in to say, rather teasingly, "So. Have you seen Ignis lately?"

A rush of his heart.

Trying his best to appear unfazed, Cor just said, as casually as possible, "What about him?"

Titus snorted.

"He's turned into quite the little supermodel. Or, at any rate, that's what Luche calls him. Caught Luche's interest the other day, and now it's all I hear. The Glaives suddenly have something to talk about. Thought it would amuse you. Must say, I'm a little surprised. Never really saw that ugly duckling coming together like that."

Cor looked over at Titus, brow low and lips pursed, and felt a bit of dread, and didn't know why.

Felt threatened in some way, at the thought of one of Titus' macho Glaives taking an interest in gentle Ignis.

Especially Luche, that famous Romeo, who had been Titus' favorite topic for years if only because of his exploits. Titus was obsessed with Luche's love life, because Luche was bisexual and whenever Luche was with a man Titus took great note because he always attempted to pass the partner in question off to Cor when Luche got bored.

Cor had always just rolled his eyes as Titus tried to give him Luche's scraps.

Scared him, to think of a man like Luche creeping up on Ignis, who Cor very much viewed as a sort of princess (though he would of course never have the gall to say that aloud).

Titus snorted again, picking at his food, and said, lowly, "I like to watch him, but I think this time I'll have to put Luche in place. A little too close to home, for my tastes. Guess I feel a little protective of Ignis. Can't stand the thought of Luche trying to get him into bed. Makes me wanna knock him out. This must be what it feels like to be a father. Distasteful."

Cor sighed, and Titus must have seen his relief, for he quirked a brow and his expression shifted a bit.

"What?"

Anxious under Titus' prying gaze, Cor just muttered, "I'm glad. For a second, I thought you were going to let him do as he pleases. I wish to avoid the chaos when Gladiolus found out and raised hell."

Titus laughed at that, and agreed, "Best avoided. Luche is just going to have to watch this supermodel on the catwalk and keep his hands to himself. It will be a good punishment for him. Now we just have to crush every other little suitor, no?"

We?

...did he have to say it like that?

The way Titus was staring at him...

Made him so nervous. As if, somehow, Titus was already on to him. Titus was alarmingly astute, saw everything, seemed to know everything, was able to predict everything, and somehow, someway, Cor feared Titus had already taken Cor's number, so soon.

At Cor's very persistent silence, Titus' smile twisted into a smug little leer, and he turned his eyes back straight ahead, thoughtfully.

They ate in silence for a long while, and then, when Titus stood up to leave, he leaned over Cor and whispered, for only him to hear, "I think I was wrong. I said that Ignis was going to end up married to a councilman, but I think now it's going to end up being a military man. I can see it coming."

A surge of panic, adrenaline, and Titus was swiftly gone, before Cor could even react.

Oh, gods, fuckin' Titus was going to give him a heart attack.

Cor sat there far longer than necessary, reluctant to move lest he run into Titus again and be caught under that leering gaze.

But duty always called, and Cor eventually slunk out.

He found himself turning his eyes to the main doors as he passed, to see which Glaives Titus had stationed there.

He was greatly relieved not to see Luche there.

In the coming days, Cor was very observant with the Glaives that shifted the Citadel, because he was terrified that he would look up and see that smug, sharp-cheeked bastard lurking by the door, ready to pounce on Ignis. Titus claimed to have put Luche in place, but Cor knew Luche just well enough through Titus' tales to know that Luche was stubborn and persistent, undaunted, and that frightened him.

Ignis always just glided down the stairs, so gracefully, and Cor lingered in corners and watched him until he was gone. Was more of a secret bodyguard these days, it seemed, making himself available every time he knew for sure Ignis would be in the Citadel, eyes always alert and on the Glaives.

Titus' men were far rougher and tougher than Crownsguards, men of war, immigrants, and Cor was leery of them.

Or maybe it something far simpler.

Jealousy.

Months passed, and Cor helplessly watched Ignis flit by as Titus relentlessly watched Cor, as Cor also watched Luche and Titus watched Luche and Luche watched Ignis and Cor watched Titus watching Luche watching Ignis and then by the end of the day Cor's goddamn head was pounding because he had confused himself about who was watching who.

Ugh—libido was awful.

Wished he could do away with it entirely.

Ignis, for his part, seemed entirely oblivious, because Ignis seemed to only have eyes for Noctis, and Noctis was becoming such an ungodly handful that Ignis was never sitting still.

Noctis tried to elude Ignis as Ignis chased after him, trying so hard to catch Noctis and smooth down his hair and straighten his tie and brush down his shoulders. Noctis, seemingly moodier and more aloof every day, shooed Ignis away fervently with a grimace.

Cor shook his head often to himself as Ignis fought through Noctis' hands and successfully preened him, and knew how pitiful it was that he would very gladly have traded places with Noctis.

Ungrateful brat.

Every time Cor seemed to glance up, however, it was to Titus' knowing smirk.

Cor tried his best to ignore him, and amidst his anxiety and fear, Cor couldn't help but notice the sad look on Ignis' face as he stared at the empty space left behind by Noctis. When Noctis was gone, Ignis seemed disheartened, dismayed, even though it was only for a few hours, and Cor wasn't dumb enough to not consider the possibility that Ignis was in love with Noctis beyond the call of duty.

Didn't want it to be true, but hard not to ponder it when Ignis stared after Noctis as a dog stared at the shut door after its owner left for the day.

As usual, Titus saw everything, and when winter was coming along, Cor stepped out of his front door and saw Titus' car waiting below on the street.

Shit.

What did he want?

Cor glared hard before he was even at street level, knew he looked grumpy and irritable (because he was), but Titus quite happily rolled down the window and peered out at him.

"Care for a ride? I was in the neighborhood."

Bullshit, but Cor sighed heavily anyway and got into the car, because he was stupid and with Titus it was usually best just to go along with whatever he was up to and get the what for out of the way.

Titus seemed happy enough when Cor shut the door, and when Titus pulled out, Cor knew right away he was in for it.

With that too-familiar smirk, Titus observed Cor up and down through lidded eyes, and seemed quite pleased.

"So," Titus began, airily, "Anything new with you?"

Cor gave a noncommittal grunt.

Titus snorted, and suddenly offered, "You've been combing your hair lately. Did you notice?"

Cor glared over at Titus, and retorted, "Yeah, you should try it sometime."

Titus ran an arrogant hand over his messy hair, and was thoroughly unfazed by Cor's snipes, quickly adding, "Your sideburns are immaculately trimmed. Your beard, too."

Cor shifted and squirmed, but there was no escape once Titus started.

Titus suddenly leaned over, playfully, and said, "You're wearing cologne, too! My, my. Boots shined, jacket pressed, shirt ironed, eyebrows smoothed. Haven't seen you care this much about what you look like since... Well. Ever, actually. Never seen you shine yourself up like this. Something you wanna say?"

"Yeah," Cor griped, crankily. "I hate you."

Titus laughed, leering away, and there was a short silence in which Titus stared at him and also in which Cor debated if it was worth it to throw himself from the passenger side of a speeding vehicle on the middle of Insomnia's busiest highway.

Woulda been less painful, likely, than having Titus hand him his ass.

In the end, Cor resisted the urge to open the car door, and Titus eyed him up and down, very coolly, and then finally cut to the chase.

"I have a theory : you're in love."

Cor scoffed, rolled his eyes, and grumbled, "Don't know what that is."

He meant that, actually.

Couldn't say he had ever felt it.

Titus, very undaunted, shot back, "Yeah, wouldn't know it if it fell on you. That's why I'm here. I am your wingman, after all, and I'm here to tell you that you've fallen in love. Don't know how you missed it. Didn't think you were that clueless."

Anxious and agitated, Cor wisely stayed silent that time, as Titus stared him down.

Wished the miserable ass would have watched the road instead, but Cor didn't say that because he was kinda hoping they would just crash and die then and he could avoid this awful conversation.

Another scoff.

"You really are clueless. I've been watching you dig this hole for almost a year, and you really didn't even notice. Don't think I'm blind to you. You're in love. And of all people, of the entire world, you had to go and fall in love with the future Hand of the King. Fitting, I suppose. He is a natural-born housewife."

A jolt of adrenaline.

Panic.

Immediately, Cor went on the defensive, bristled and puffed out, and under it all so frightened, and was quick to hiss, dangerously, "You've lost your mind."

Titus waved one hand in the air, and griped, irritably, "Unbelievable. I literally told you that I would crush all suitors for you, and you can't even be bothered to make a pass. Figures. Why am I surprised?"

Absolute terror was what Cor felt then, so strongly that he was unable to even be angry at the audacity.

Ignis was on the cusp of being fifteen years old, and that Titus could stand there and tell Cor that he was in love was absolutely horrifying, because Cor could stand there in turn and look at himself and the situation and realize that, in every legal sense, he was practically a child molester for having the thoughts he did.

Fear.

Titus must have seen it, because his face relaxed, just a bit, and he sighed.

"Look. We both know you didn't mean for this to happen. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you look at anyone like that. I know who you are. I know the kind of man you are, and so... It doesn't bother me. And hell, it's almost normal. Men always go for younger partners."

"Not this young," Cor hissed back, dangerously, feeling threatened and vulnerable as Titus forced him back into a corner.

He was a breath away from biting.

Annoyed suddenly, Titus shot back, "You're the one that fell in love with him, not me, so don't fuckin' bitch at me. Sort yourself first. Get your head screwed on."

Anger.

His fists clenched and his shoulders squared, puffing out to his full size, because, in the end, Cor was terrified and was defensive for it. Felt so scared, so helpless, so trapped, so all he could do was be aggressive and lash out and try to force Titus to stand down. So insecure in that moment, because he didn't want anyone to look at him differently, didn't want that over his head. Didn't want to cause a ruckus like that, not like that. He was Cor the Immortal; didn't ever wanna hear someone joke about 'Cor the Predator', 'Cor the Pedophile'.

Didn't want police knocking on his door.

Ignis was underage.

The shame alone would have been unbearable, inescapable. Cor could have never shown his face in court again, would have just gone out into the wilderness beyond the city walls and fallen upon his own sword.

His greatest fear.

Titus knew him well enough to know how he was feeling, to know why he was so angry, and kept as close to the window as possible, just in case Cor tried to punch him. Because, naturally, Cor was the sort of man who wouldn't have thought twice about punching someone inside a moving vehicle.

When threatened, anyway, and damn if he didn't feel threatened then.

His pulse was hammering in his neck, he knew he was pale, his pupils must have been dilated, must have looked panicked, and his voice almost went out on him when he uttered, with no room for argument, "You're never going to repeat those words again."

Cor's reputation was everything.

Just like Titus' was, and Titus of all people should have understood what was at stake.

Titus was quiet for a moment, and then said, in a much gentler voice, "So, you intend to stand there in the shadows and pine for the rest of your life? Is that really how you're going to go about this?"

"What would you have me do?" Cor snapped, crossing his arms then over his chest and averting his gaze out the car window.

Felt sick and dizzy.

"It's not up to me to tell you what to do. I'm only here to assist and offer advice. I'm telling you now that I'm on your side, as I always am, and think no differently of you."

Yeah, great, really, Cor loved Titus for that, always had, but what Titus thought of Cor in the end really meant nothing.

It was what the King thought, what Clarus thought, what the council thought, what the public thought, that mattered. Titus could support Cor all he wanted, but that wouldn't stop the papers from ruining Cor. Wouldn't stop the police from hauling him off, and wouldn't stop Regis from ramming a royal arm right up his ass.

With finality, Cor said, "This conversation is over."

Titus made a noise of thoughtfulness, and drawled, "We'll see. Here's what I'll do. Look me in the eye right now and tell me you're not in love, and I'll back off. I'll let Luche have his day, and you won't have to worry about me interfering. Deal?"

Cor turned his head, met Titus' eyes, and opened his mouth.

And, gods help him, even though he was knew it was the way things had to be, no other way around it, when Cor meant to speak he found himself losing his voice.

Couldn't say it.

For the life of him, he just couldn't say it, as if something physically were preventing his throat from forming the words.

Nothing came out, and Titus' smile then was one of those exceedingly rare genuine ones.

They spoke no more, and Cor turned his eyes back to the road.

Couldn't say it, and Titus had known that all along.

That car ride was the longest of his life, and never had Cor barged so furiously into the Citadel, nearly knocking out a gaggle of people at the door by his stalking gait alone.

Titus was left far behind, and Cor had no doubt that he was plotting.

Titus' theory upset Cor so much, because it was correct.

Cor was in love.

And there was no way it could ever happen.